


THEORIES

by lary



Category: House M.D., Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Crossover, First Time, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jack gets sick, the Others fly a diagnostician to the Island to find out what is wrong with him. Things get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Universe for pretty obvious reasons. In terms of canons, with House situates somewhere near S6, though with slight modifications (i.e. rehab didn't stick, and Kutner is still around). With Lost there may be slight changes, too; but they have been on the Island for a while.
> 
> I enjoyed writing this a lot. Love comments.
> 
> Characters not owned by me.

 

 

House has just been able to shake Cuddy by having Chase fake-page her to dermatology. He's about to take a nap in his office, but to his annoyance it's already occupied by a dark-haired man dressed in an expensive suit.

 

“Wrong address. If you're looking for tea and sympathy, go next door. If you've got enough money for fun times, the Dean of Medicine is on the ground floor. Either way you need to get out of my office.”

 

“Pleased to meet you Dr. House, my name is Richard Alpert.”

 

The man has dark eyes and a flashing smile. House has got a feeling that the man looks vaguely familiar, like he's seen him at the hospital before, but he can't place him.

 

“Don't care who you are, just get out.”

 

The man tries to offer him a handshake, and then a file. “My client would like your help with a patient. Your consult will be well compensated for.”

 

“Just cured my last patient. Quota's full for this week.” He makes no move to take the file, sitting behind his desk.

 

“Dr. House, you're an intelligent man. I'm sure you realise that you _will_ be helping us – we would appreciate your cooperation, but it is not necessary.”

 

House looks at the other man, narrowing his eyes. “You're threatening the cripple? You should know I've got a cane and I know how to use it.”

 

The man smiles a little. “Please take a look, I'm sure you'll find it interesting enough to spare us a bit of your time.”

 

House is intrigued in spite of himself, particularly after glancing at the file. Seizures, two heart attacks and a coma, accompanied by kidney and liver failure. House hasn't seen such a intriguing set of symptoms in a while.

 

The tiny detail that the patient is on an island at some unspecified location does nothing to inhibit him away from the puzzle.

 

**

 

“Who the hell thought it a good idea to bring a cripple onto a fucking beach?” House growls as his cane sinks into the sand. He rubs his temples, still aching from whatever it was that Alpert had used at the Newark International Airport to knock him out. That had come as a less than pleasant surprise after accompanying the man to the airport voluntarily.

 

Richard Alpert flinches and glances at Ben Linus, a bland-looking guy who's acting like The Boss. He's surrounded by men with guns, and it seems most of the residents on the Island keep their distance from the man.

 

“Dr. House, why don't you just focus on trying to find out whether the residents can help you with diagnosing Dr. Jack Shepherd,” Linus suggests calmly. “We'll go stand slightly further away, maybe you'll have more luck with getting information when they don't have the Others amongst them. They are somewhat distrustful of us.”

 

“Can't think why,” House remarks sarcastically, as the armed men gather to move some way towards the woods. He's already noted that none of the residents seem to be carrying guns.

 

House turns back to the other people gathered around him. It seems Linus is the one responsible for having House brought to the Island. Yet, none of his men seem as worried about the man lying in coma as the residents are. Pretty much all of them have introduced themselves by now, but House can't remember half of their names. Normally, he wouldn't bother learning any, but it seems like it might be a while before he's off the damn Island.

 

House has been told the group has ended up on the Island in an emergency landing of a commercial aeroplane. House is suspicious of the story, but there are the remains of the plane on the beach, which seem to back it up. The residents seem somewhat disorganised, but four of them are more involved in decision making than others.

 

There's a worried-looking brunette woman, who had simply introduced herself as Kate, and three men. It seems that the residents regard an older man, John Locke, with a mix of admiration and fear. House has got a feeling that he's some kind of religious nutjob, and he takes an instant dislike in the man. Also, there's a dark-skinned Arab, Sayid Jarrah, who hasn't said much, but to whom it seems the residents turn to continuously. And it seems that a blond guy called Sawyer holds an opposite role – clearly the other residents have mixed feelings about trusting him, but he's vocally involved about what should be done about the sick doctor. The man is challenging his every opinion, and House wonders whether it's just attention-seeking in general, from him specifically, or if he's got the hots for the patient.

 

House scowls at the bunch of people gathered around him. He's been talking to them for the last hour and it's reminding him about why he usually never does the medical history himself. _Everybody lies._ Yet, in the absence of lackeys he's got few other options.

 

The residents' stories have been far-fetched. Receiving food crates that are dropped from the sky hardly seems likely, but a big guy has just started talking about a polar bear attack. House is losing his patience, the little he's got to begin with.

 

“A polar bear in the jungle. Well, at least there's some originality,” he mocks.

 

“Dude, that's nothing. Sawyer shot it, but there's still the Smoke Monster...”

 

“Hurley,” a brunette woman cuts him off at House's blackening expression. She turns to him looking desperate. “Dr. House, please, can you just try to find out what is wrong with Jack. He's been in a coma for nearly a week now.”

 

House takes a deep breath, and tries to do the doctor thing. “Was he complaining about any pain before then?” he asks.

 

“He didn't say anything. But we noticed him fall down a few times. I think he was having headaches. Can you help him?”

 

“Not having a complete medical history will make that considerably harder,” House says, irritated.

 

The people around him share uncertain glances, most of them apparently unwilling to subject themselves to be the centre of House's attention.

 

“Anybody else here sick besides the patient?” he asks.

 

“Nobody else currently sick, Dr. House. But I believe the Island affects Jack's condition,” Locke says.

 

“And why do you think that, grandpa?”

 

“Because I used to be in a wheelchair before the plane crash.”

 

House studies the man, who seems to be in an excellent shape. “Yes, falling for ten miles is an FDA approved treatment for being a cripple,” he says sarcastically. “I should try it myself.”

 

“I had a broken spine, inoperable, but the Island cured me.”

 

House has just about had it with this crap. “Let me make this clear. Your friend over there isn't dead yet, but if you people keep lying to me like idiots, he will be.”

 

Sawyer's been getting increasingly frustrated during the doctor's interrogation. Jack is fighting for his life and the man is wasting time. The latest accusation makes him see red.

 

“We're not lying, you son of a bitch!” Sawyer lunges at House, but Sayid steps quickly in front of him, blocking his path and holding him back.

 

“Leggo of me!” Sawyer snarls, but the pain in the ass Iraqi only tightens his arms around his chest. Sawyer is surprised at Sayid's strength. Sure, they've fought it out before, but most often the other residents have come between them, breaking the fight before it could properly start.

 

This time he finds himself unable to break free from Sayid's hold despite his best efforts. He curses at the asshole doctor, who merely shrugs and turns towards the other people to question them.

 

“Let the man work,” Sayid murmurs in his ear in a low voice and that foreign accent of his. Sawyer can't help it but the voice does things to him. It's soothing and warm. He feels the tension leaving his body so completely that he drops on the ground dragging Sayid with him.

 

The other man is in an awkward angle, sitting halfway to his right and halfway if front of him, left leg tangled with his right one. He feels Sayid loosen his grip slightly, but the man doesn't let go, and some part of Sawyer is relieved about that. His emotions are all over the place, but the fight has left him and Sayid's presence is comforting. He doesn't register the words muttered to him in a low voice, only noticing that at some point the man has switched to Arabic. The tone still feels warming to him.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Kate's question almost makes Sawyer jump, like he's caught at something he's not supposed to be doing. She's looking down at him with a slightly incredulous kind of worry. Sayid releases him immediately and Sawyer scrambles to get up.

 

“I'm fine, Freckles, don't you worry about little ol' me. How's the Doc?” he asks, trusting that to turn the woman's focus. She starts to ramble about how Jack's fever is rising and the new doctor doesn't seem to be able to help. Sawyer listens to her, pointedly not giving Sayid another glance as he follows Kate towards the tents. 

 

**

 

His questioning of the residents has yielded little new information, but House is determined to get to the truth. He makes his way towards Sayid Jarrah, who's sitting on the beach a little further away from the crowd. He's the one who stopped the blond guy from attacking him earlier, and clearly holds more respect from the residents than Ben Linus does.

 

The man looks up when House approaches him. “Do you know what Jack has? He is needed around here.” House notes the man's accent with amusement, but at least Jarrah is not trying to shake his hand.

 

“Might want to stop lying then,” House suggests. He sits on a rock, rubbing his leg. Luckily, walking in the sand hasn't made the pain any worse than usual. Always best to prepare, though, so he pops a Vicodin.

 

“I know what it sounds like, Dr. House.” Jarrah is tying his dark hair back away from his face. “The Island... It is unbelievable. But you have heard the truth from us.”

 

“Fine. Let's say for a minute that I believe you about the medical history. It still doesn't give me much in the way of answers. Information about mythical monsters but nothing about his family background.”

 

“I do not know much about Jack. We have only gotten to know each other after crashing on the Island, and most of us do not wish to talk about our pasts. However, I doubt that kind of information will be necessary for you. I, too, believe whatever it is will be something specific to the Island. Something he did not have when getting here.”

 

House thinks about that for a moment, balancing his cane absently on his knee. He doesn't believe in miracle cures. If the story about the wheelchair is true, there will be something about the Island to explain it. The doctors must have misdiagnosed the severity of the spine injury to begin with. After a while he turns to look at the other man.

 

“So, you people always attack cripples?” he asks.

 

“Sawyer doesn't get along with many people,” Jarrah explains. “He especially doesn't tend to like intense doctors.”

 

“Huh. Seemed to me like the opposite might be true,” House smirks.

 

He can see realisation dawn on Jarrah and his dark eyes light up with a devilish smile.

 

“Interesting,” the Arab says.

 

House's grin widens. Grudgingly he has to admit that this guy might be somebody actually worth hanging around.

 

**

 

House follows the “others” and Locke down a jungle path, cursing the long walk. He wonders how long it will be before the terrain will render his leg completely useless. So far the pain hasn't flared up any more than usual, but he feels relieved when his feet meet the level surface of the hatch.

 

The patient is in a coma, lying on a medical bed in a secluded room. Further down the corridor there's a larger open area, with a wooden table and a few metal shelves. A door leads to a bathroom, and there's a small alcove, with two beds.

 

The Others direct him to one of them, and he throws his backpack on it, taking in his surroundings with a scowl.

 

“This is actually a nicer than the one we had before,” Locke says.

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“Oh, yes, that one was equipped with a button you had to push every 108 minutes.”

 

“Right. Cause if you waited for 109 minutes, everything would just explode,” House says sarcastically.

 

“Yes. That's exactly what happened when I failed to press the button.”

 

“What kind of a moron are you?” House barks at him and limps quickly to the patient room. He sighs with relief when Locke doesn't follow him.

 

A blond woman comes towards him.

 

“It's nice to meet you, Dr. House. I am Dr. Juliet Burke, a fertility specialist. I have been overseeing Jack's treatment, but I have no idea what he might have,” she says in a worried voice. “I believe you had time to familiarise yourself with the patient file before Richard sedated you for the journey?”

 

House looks closely at the woman. She seems to be one of the Others, rather than one of the the beach residents, but her disapproving frown tells him she's not in complete agreement with Linus's leadership methods. She holds her tongue, however, as The Boss himself is standing nearby.

 

“Any changes in the condition?”

 

“Not really. He's still in a coma, although he hasn't had any more seizures today.”

 

House limps to the bed and glances at the file, where there have indeed been few changes. He thinks for a while.

 

“Paraneoplastic syndrome accompanied by multi-organ failure, causing the heart and liver problems. Brain tumour would account for the dizziness, headaches and the coma.”

 

“If he had cancer, we would've found it already,” Linus argues. “We have all the latest technology.”

 

“You may have the equipment, but you've only got idiots working for you. Or is there something you haven't told me which makes you think a vagina doctor can help the patient?”

 

“You're an ass!” Burke exclaims, blushing.

 

“We need a consult. I know a guy,” House says, ignoring her.

 

“We don't have any connection to the mainland anymore. We can't call anybody.” Linus seems anxious.

 

“Well, too bad for you,” House remarks. The man is quiet for a while.

 

“Juliet, please give us a moment,” Linus says, and the blond storms out. “What do you mean, too bad for me?” he then asks carefully.

 

“Would really help with removing your own tumour.” House says and sees the other man pale. “That's why you're desperate to save this guy, right? So that he can operate on you. What I don't know is why you haven't gotten somebody for yourself in the first place.”

 

“The Island won't let me. It has to be Jack, otherwise it won't work,” the man admits silently. He is shrinking under House's gaze. House resists the urge to whack his superstitious ass with his cane, but only with difficulty.

 

“Hmm. I guess you have no other possibility but to fly Wilson in for Jackie then. Might want to get some more drugs as well. Vicodin, mainly.”

 

“His name is Dr. Jack Shephard. And fine. We'll get your oncologist here.”

 

“Get me my whiteboard, too. And make Wilson take his lunch with him. And my Gameboy! And bring Cuddy's cleavage. Without Cuddy obviously.”

 

**

 

“So, Dr. Cane got any good theories?”

 

Sayid almost doesn't notice the nickname for House – it's always the same with Sawyer, the man never calls anybody by their name. Sawyer's question is layered with sarcasm as he drops down to sit some way to his left. It's dark and most people have gone to sleep, leaving Sayid to tend the fire overnight as he often does.

 

For Sayid, going to sleep at what is considered the normal time is not an option, simply resulting in his mind stirring the worst memories of his life, of death and torture. There's no rest to that experience, and over the years he's grown very used to sustaining himself with the few hours of sleep, falling asleep at the break of dawn. At the Island he's still been getting up same time with most of the camp.

 

“Oh yes, very intriguing,” Sayid answers, setting his gaze on Sawyer. He enjoys watching the firelight bounce off the man's features, the muscles so considerately exposed by not wearing a shirt. He thinks about House's comment, and it surprises him that the thought hasn't come to him before. Now he considers whether Sawyer might be into men – Sawyer's part in the Island's infamous love triangle drama could be fuelled more by his attraction to Jack than to Kate.

 

“So, what is it?”

 

Sayid detects the mix of feelings behind Sawyer's sharp tone. Some of them are easily recognisable, most clearly the worry about Jack. Sayid shares it, but he's seen a lot in his life and can accept it when there's nothing he can do. There's also the fidgety demeanour that tells him that Sawyer is nervous. The most interesting thing, however, is the pronounced nonchalance with which Sawyer is treating him, barely looking at his direction. Sayid smiles slightly as his suspicions are confirmed. _Yes, Sawyer is definitely interested._

 

“I do not think I will share that with you just now,” Sayid says. 

 

“What, you ain't gonna tell me?” Sawyer looks at him indignantly.

 

Sayid doesn't answer him, but continues to enjoy the sight in front of him, smiling in the confident way that he knows frustrates the other man. Angry Sawyer is something incredibly hot, and Sayid feels himself get aroused. He glances at Sawyer's muscled chest, and it is easy to picture Jack's hands running on it, his mouth attacking the blond man's chin and neck. 

 

“Why the hell not?” Sawyer demands. Sayid ignores the man's question in favour of unabashed examination of his body. In his head, an image of House has replaced Jack, pressed against Sawyers back, his stubble scratching red marks on Sawyer's skin.

 

“Spill it, Ahmed.” Sawyer's heated growl shoots right to his crotch.

 

 _Why not both doctors,_ Sayid thinks and pictures Jack undressing Sawyer's pants, going down on Sawyer with the intensity he normally reserves for their testosterone filled arguments over the alpha dog position. Certainly doesn't require a big leap of imagination with the aggressive glare Sawyer is currently directing at Sayid.

 

Finally Sayid replies in an unaffected voice, “It's sweet that you care so much.”

 

Sayid already knows to expect Sawyer's reaction to his provocations, and he's on his feet quickly as a panther. Sawyer is strong, but Sayid is a trained fighter, and it doesn't take him a long time to have Sawyer pressed against a tree, movement restrained by his own body. Both of them are breathing heavy from the struggle, but it doesn't seem like the other man is making a serious effort to get away from him like he had on the beach.

 

Sawyer's greyish eyes are locked into his, and Sayid can no longer stop the arousal from entering his voice.

 

“I want to test the theory first,” he murmurs, pressing right into Sawyer. His erect penis pushes against Sawyer's crotch, and Sayid feels that Sawyer is equally hard. The man tenses, inhaling sharply.

 

“Seems like the new doctor knows his stuff,” Sayid lets out a breathless laugh. He presses himself firmer against Sawyer, hot pleasure spreading into his body.

 

“Fuckin' hell,” Sawyer groans, suddenly relaxing under his arms. Sayid loosens his grasp, and Sawyer responds by moving closer.

 

Sawyer's lips are on his, Sawyer's tongue searching his mouth willingly. Sayid feels hands move along his back to his hips. He catches his breath as Sawyer pulls him closer, bringing their cocks together, grinding hard against him. The friction sends electric jolts all over his body.

 

Sayid feels Sawyer's hand trails across his back. Sawyer kisses him eagerly, pushing against him, seeking contact with Sayid's body as if his life is depending on it.

 

It takes him by surprise, Sawyer's fervour and lust for him, but Sayid matches the intensity with his own. He kisses back hungrily and struggles to get both of their pants out of the way.

 

“Ohh,” he groans as his cock slides against Sawyer's, hard and wet with precome. The other man trembles against him, moaning audibly, and Sayid wants to hear more. He moves against him, pulling Sawyer closer from the hips, and Sawyer matches his pace, rubbing against him, sending waves of pleasure through him. He attacks Sawyer's throat, kissing and biting, relishing the erotic sounds the man makes.

 

“God, I want to see you come,” Sayid whispers in his ear, and is granted the wish through the simple expression of it. He has his eyes fixed on Sawyer's face, the blond's mouth opening in blissful expression, as he feels the warm wetness spread between them.

 

“Jesus Christ, Sayid,” Sawyer gasps, and that's what sends him over the edge. There's something so fucking hot and intimate in Sawyer using his name now that he's coming, probably too far gone to catch himself at this point. Sayid can no longer stop himself, and doesn't care to, as he thrusts against Sawyer's firm stomach, erupting in satisfaction.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

House limps the same tedious path to the beach as he was brought along yesterday. Something makes the hatch feel suffocating, and despite the rough terrain his leg is not complaining as loudly as he would expect it to.

 

When he gets out of the trees, he heads towards the food supplies. A makeshift table holds a selection of fruits and packaged foods. House walks past it towards one of the tents.

 

_Gotta have something to make me feel at home_ , he thinks as he steals an apple from Jarrah. The other man has a promisingly irritated expression, but there's no frustrated sigh, let alone an eyeroll. _Damn._

 

“How's Jack?” the Arab asks after getting some more fruit for himself.

 

“I've started him on chemo.”

 

“You found a tumour?”

 

“No, but cancer is still the most likely theory. Fastest test is the treatment.”

 

“Good. I think you could help me test your other theory, as well. The one concerning Sawyer.” Jarrah's voice has lowered so slightly that it would probably go unnoticed by most people. House raises an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I already ran some preliminary tests that were promising,” the man says with a flirtatious smile. House is unable suppress a grin from rising on his face whenever Jarrah gets that expression.

 

“So that's why he's circling the brunette, then,” House remarks. He looks further away on the beach, where the blond is stretching himself in the sun in a very clear view of the women sitting nearby.

 

“Yes, focusing on Kate seems to be keeping him from freaking out.”

 

“Cute, really,” House says. Jarrah shoots him a wicked smile that makes him catch his breath a little. _Fuck._

 

“So, to our hypothesis. Unless I want to wait for Jack to get all better, I will need your help in order to determine whether intense doctors are Sawyer's type.”

 

House thinks about the plan, which has some limitations as well as some obvious benefits.

 

Personality-wise House is much more attracted to Jarrah than to the other man. The Arab is confident and knows what he's doing, which House appreciates in all situations but especially when it comes to sex.

 

Sawyer, on the other hand, is like an aggressive version of Chase, with the hair and the obvious daddy issues. Then again, the body is certainly hot enough to make up for it. _Yes_ , he decides, _this could very well be interesting._

 

“I'm always up for some science. Pun intended.”

 

**

 

When House wakes up in a hammock from his afternoon nap, his eyes meet a delightful sight. Wilson is staring down at him with hands on his hips.

 

“What the hell were you thinking? Some weird men showed up at our place, telling me to pack a suitcase, because you'd told them to pick me up for a consult. They took me to a car and told me they have to drug me for the journey, and now I'm God knows where!”

 

“You're on an Island in the middle of an ocean,” House explains to him patiently.

 

“ _An_ ocean? You don't even know _which_ ocean?” Wilson looks close to panicking.

 

“Nah, we didn't go into specifics.”

 

“House, of all the stupid things you've done...” Wilson mutters in an exasperated tone.

 

“How can you blame me for getting kidnapped?” House asks him in an hurt voice, scrambling out of the hammock. Napping in it is relaxing, but getting in and out of the thing is a hassle.

 

“I'm not blaming you for that, but you didn't need to get me kidnapped, too!”

 

“But they needed a good oncologist and you're the only one I know. Possibly a unique phenomenon. And I was getting bored here. Can you believe they have no cable?”

 

Wilson makes a strangled sound that betrays his anxiety, but he's regained some of his sarcasm. “No cable in the middle of an ocean. You don't say.”

 

“No General Hospital. No porn. How can anybody live like this?”

 

“Yes, it is always awful when your kidnappers don't provide porn,” Wilson concedes in his usual tone of mockery. He hands House a bottle of Vicodin. “Here.”

 

House pockets the pills without taking one. He looks at Wilson's resigned expression and grins to himself. Truth be told, he's missing New Jersey less and less.

 

**

 

Wilson is brought to the hatch and updated on the patient's condition by some of the people who apparently ended up on the Island in a plane crash, and a few of the group they call the Others. He's introduced to several new people and he feels grateful for his good memory. Many seem disappointed that Wilson doesn't have any immediate answers regarding to the patient, particularly a slender brunette called Kate. However, most leave back to the beach looking somewhat less worried after he reassures them that they will do everything they can for Jack.

 

It seems that the patient is doing somewhat better since House started him on chemo. He's still in a coma, but he has had no more heart attacks or seizures. Wilson asks the Others to perform new scans, and House shows him to a small alcove with two beds that look highly uncomfortable. House's backbag is laying on one of the beds, and Wilson unpacks some of his things on the other one. There's a hook in the wall and he uses it for hanging his shirts. He feels like changing into something clean, and then a horrible thought hits him.

 

“House, please tell me there's a shower somewhere in here?”

 

“Yes, because it would be awful if your kidnappers didn't provide a shower,” House smirks, but gestures towards the bathroom.

 

Wilson feels much better once he's washed himself and changed into fresh clothes. He gets out, rolling up his sleeves and walking towards the alcove. He hears the murmur of voices coming from House's bed.

 

“You're a little overdressed for the beach, don't you think?” House mocks as soon as he sees Wilson, who smiles to himself. He's missed House. Not that the man had been gone too long, only a couple of days, but he had simply disappeared and everybody had been worried. Wilson most of all, although it wasn't unlike House to do something insensitive like that.

 

When the strangers had come for Wilson, he'd been considerate enough to leave Cuddy a voicemail saying that he and House were taking a vacation. Not entirely truthful, of course, but it would serve it's purpose.

 

Wilson hangs his towel on a bench, and moves some of his stuff to sit on the bed. He looks at House, who's sitting on his own bed with Jarrah. _Quite close to him, actually_ , it now occurs to him. Both men are leaning against the wall behind them, their legs are nearly brushing against each other. It feels strange to see House be so comfortable with a somebody he barely knows.

 

There's also something unexpected in House's demeanour, something Wilson can't quite place his finger on. He knows he's seen that kind of attention directed towards some people. Wilson prods his memory. _Cameron_ , _at some point at least,_ he thinks. _And Cuddy, definitely._ Yet, he can't pinpoint it until House's face lights up into a smile at something Jarrah says. That's when it hits him, and his throat dries up. _House is flirting._

 

Wilson is often berating House about the way in which the other man can only comment on phenomena as simply interesting, rather than elaborating on how he feels. But right now he can relate. Watching the two men, Wilson is unable to specify anything coherent from the mess of feelings in his gut, except for one thing. He is interested.

 

“Wilson?” House's question startles Wilson and sends him going through his suitcase. To his horror he feels slight reddening crawl up his neck. _God, like it's not bad enough already._ Usually Wilson is much better at hiding whatever he's feeling from House, who he knows will pick up even the smallest details. But apparently the few House-less days have been long enough to make him sloppy. He tries to cover by throwing a packet of Oreos at the man.

 

The distraction works partially. “Oh, cool,” House grins and tucks in, but not without shooting another quizzical look towards him. Wilson sees Jarrah looking at them both curiously, and he feels oddly relieved when House changes the subject.

 

“So, how are the kids faring when daddy's gone?” he asks mouth full of cookies.

 

“Cuddy put Foreman in charge. Thirteen, Taub, and Kutner are fighting over the remote,” Wilson tells him. He notices Jarrah's bewilderment and clarifies, “House's employees.”

 

“Oh, God,” House complains, “I'll have to spend ages again rendering Foreman's ego back to manageable levels once I get back.”

 

“Yes, Foreman's the one with the huge ego,” Wilson quips. Then he suddenly remembers their more pressing dilemma and turns to Jarrah. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

 

“Not exactly. The Others know better, but it is not easy to get answers out of them,” the man replies. Wilson sees something dark flash in Jarrah's eyes, but it's gone before he knows what to think of it. “What I know is that we had been flying for about six hours across the Pacific from Sydney to LA when we hit turbulence. We steered off course for two hours trying to do an emergency landing. To my best estimate, we are somewhere north from Fiji, but how far, it is impossible to tell.”

 

Wilson is stunned into silence. That means they must have transported him unconscious for a whole day. Probably even longer, for he's got a sudden feeling that the Island doesn't hold an international airport.

 

“Well, at least we know which ocean, now...” Wilson says feeling slightly dizzy. House snorts.

 

“Come with me,” Jarrah says and leads Wilson to the adjacent room, where there's a larger table. He unfolds a large piece of paper, which is filled with pen strikes and calculations. There are a few drawings that look much like make-shift boats, and Wilson looks at the man in shock.

 

“You're not going to try to sail away from here? You have no idea where you even are.”

 

“Actually, I do have an idea – we are somewhere in here.” He points to a circle on a drawing that is apparently a map.

 

“Still, that's a huge area,” Wilson argues.

 

“Yes, but what else would you suggest we do, stay here forever after crashing here?” his brown eyes fix into Wilson, who has to admit he doesn't have any idea. The Others must have boats or a helicopter, whatever they had used for bringing him and House there. But Wilson has a feeling that the relations between them and the residents are strained.

 

“However,” Jarrah continues, “we already tried to make a raft, it was before we knew of the Others. They caught the people who were trying to leave, shooting Sawyer and kidnapping a kid. But we now know that they have better means of transportation. We will be able to get our hands on them eventually.”

 

Wilson feels his throat dry up. It seems that the relations between the people who crashed here and those called the Others are a lot more violent than he has picked up so far. It looks like they are cooperating about the patient, but maybe that's just a temporary truce.

 

Scary possibilities circle in his head. What if the Others refuse to bring them back to Princeton? What if House fails to cure the patient?

 

Jarrah seems to notice his discomfort. He smiles to him comfortingly. “I do not think you need to worry. Ben Linus promised to get you out of here, and so far he has done what he has promised. And he is not an idiot. Nobody knows to miss us, because everybody believes us dead at the plane crash. However, the disappearance of two doctors, one of them world-famous, will cause people to look into it, and I doubt he wants that.”

 

Wilson feels somewhat calmed by the man's words, but still apprehensive. “What about all of you?”

 

“It would be unwise for you to say anything about us,” Jarrah warns him. Wilson gets a sickening feeling in his stomach, but the Arab seems confident about their escape.

 

They continue to discuss the Island, and Jarrah tells him about some of the things they've had happen. Wilson finds the story about the polar bear unbelievable, yet it doesn't seem that the man is lying. Other stories seem more likely, and he laughs at the image of a boar stealing Sawyer's tent in the middle of the night. Wilson can see what House likes about Jarrah – the two men are similar in the effortless intelligence they display both when dealing with something serious and in their humour.

 

House has been more or less ignoring the conversation in favour of going through Wilson's suitcase. Suddenly, Wilson hears him squeal with delight and House emerges from the alcove with a packet of chips.

 

“God, I missed you, Wilson,” House grins. ”It's not nearly as much fun stealing food from other people.” He shoots a reprimanding look at Jarrah.

 

“How lovely it is to be missed for such a reason,” Wilson replies dryly. Still, House's enthusiasm is like something contagious, capable of banishing any worries he might have.

 

Sayid smiles to himself, watching House devouring the chips. It's obvious Wilson is the guy House usually steals food from, and Sayid is more than happy to relinquish his temporary position. He is intrigued about their relationship. Clearly, the two men are close. He settles himself comfortably, listening to the easy conversation between them.

 

“Did you notice the new clothes I brought for you?” Wilson asks House.

 

“Mm-hm. Did you set the TiVo for L-Word?”

 

“Sure,” comes the sarcastic reply, “nothing else on your mind when you're getting kidnapped.”

 

“Wilson, there are _lesbians_ on the show! Where are your priorities?” House asks.

 

“Next time you don't show up for work or home for two days straight, I'll be sure to skip the worrying and go straight to more important things.”

 

House looks a little bashful at that.

 

“Besides, I wouldn't have had time to set the TiVo,” Wilson concedes with a small smile.

 

“You could've asked Nora,” House grins.

 

“Nora?” Sayid asks. The conversation is getting interesting – it sounds like House and Wilson live together. Wilson's answer confirms the suspicion.

 

“Nora, our neighbour. And no, I couldn't have asked her, thanks to you,” he directs at House, clearly annoyed.

 

“If she still thought us a gay couple, it would've been totally plausible. Lesbians for juicing up our sex life. It's pretty dry when you're so closeted.”

 

“Pretty sure it's just straight men who watch lesbians for getting off,” Wilson argues.

 

“I watch it. I'm not just gay for you, you know,” House says suggestively, exchanging a conspiratory smile with Sayid. Wilson brushes off the comment without a reaction.

 

“It's your fault anyway,” House continues. “You're the one who insisted on outing us from the non-gay closet. She was totally prepared to do us before then.”

 

_Not having sex then_ , Sayid thinks.

 

“You're the one who made her think we're a gay couple when you knew I wanted to date her!” Wilson argues.

 

Somehow, Sayid isn't surprised by that. “Of course.”

 

“The whole building already thought that,” House defends himself. Sayid smirks at the apparent glee in House's statement.

 

“Your Chorus Line poster?” Wilson insists.

 

“Hey, you're the one who likes that stuff.”

 

“You had to back up her suspicions?”

 

“I'm hurt you're blaming this all on me,” House says, without looking hurt in the least. It's clear to Sayid that the man is enjoying riling up his friend. “It was you who shot down the obvious solution.”

 

“Yes, how inconsiderate of me, not wanting us to be known in our apartment building as the gay couple who proposes people for threesomes.”

 

“Why not? Fun times would've been had by all, I'm sure. Though maybe we should have a twosome first,” House leers. Sayid is intrigued by the lack of response from Wilson. He wonders at how continuously House is hitting on his best friend without the man even realising it.

 

Wilson is getting increasingly frustrated with the topic. It's not like they haven't argued about the whole incident with Nora often enough in the couple of months they've been living in the new loft. Wilson reaches to grab some chips from House, who makes an offended noise, clutching the package more tightly. “Hey, get your own!”

 

Wilson rolls his eyes. “Those are mine, House.” He feels a smile tugging at his lips when House turns away dramatically, shielding the chips with his body.

 

A woman's voice startles him. “Dr. Wilson, I'm Dr. Juliet Burke. I was wondering if you could come and take a look at the scans when you have a moment?” a beautiful, blond woman has come standing next to him. She is directing a gorgeous smile at him while forcefully ignoring House, who's acting juvenile.

 

A situation Wilson is much too familiar with.

 

Wilson smiles at her politely, “I will be there in a few minutes, Dr. Burke. And it's James.”

 

“Please, call me Juliet,” she smiles at him warmly before making her way back towards the hatch.

 

Wilson isn't looking forward to House's commentary, but that has obviously never stopped the man. “Nice,” House leers. “Though she doesn't seem quite needy enough to become the fourth ex-Mrs. Wilson.”

 

Wilson sees Jarrah smile at House's remark. The calculating expression in his brown eyes is making Wilson increasingly self-conscious.

 

“I think I'll go right away,” he says, following Juliet hastily.

 

**

 

They've finished looking through the scans, which show no trace of cancer, but Juliet lingers in James Wilson's company. It is so pleasant to finally have such a nice, handsome man to talk to. Even better, James is a fellow doctor and a department head despite being the same age with her. Impressive.

 

“It is such a nice thing you're doing here, coming to the Island to help a total stranger,” she says.

 

“Well, they didn't really ask for my full consent,” James admits, but judging by his small smile he's not too badly affected.

 

“Yes,” she frowns, “they didn't ask for mine either when they brought me here. I could leave by now, I think, but I can help people here.”

 

Juliet is finding James to be an excellent listener, and she's talked a bit about her job as a fertility specialist. He's sympathised with the problems she's had with trying to save the pregnant mothers. It feels good to be the centre of such unwavering attention. The more she is getting to know James, the more unbelievable it feels that he'd have anything in common with the abrasive older doctor.

 

“So, you and Dr. House work in the same hospital?” she asks him.

 

“Yes. But House is also my friend,” James smiles.

 

_Of course_ , Juliet thinks, _James is so nice, he must be friends with all of his colleagues. Yet, they're not even on a first name basis._ The thought makes her feel special. Still, she feels curious about the friendship. “How do you know each other?”

 

“Ah, if I had a nickel for every time I'm asked that,” James laughs.

 

Juliet blushes, but it doesn't feel like James is making fun of her. _He must indeed get that a lot_ , she thinks.

 

“We go back a long way. And what is your impression of him, so far? Let me guess, a total jerk?” he asks.

 

She blushes more furiously, but James is not unkind and the light teasing feels good.

 

“Something like that,” she admits.

 

James laughs softly. “And how do you think he's getting along with the other people here?”

 

“Well, many seem to share my initial impression,” Juliet grins. “Actually, Sawyer almost hit him the first day he was here.”

 

“What happened?” James asks.

 

She sees a flicker of interest in the oncologist's brown eyes and is happy to gossip some. “Ah, well, Dr. House was being quite rude, calling people idiots.” Juliet is encouraged by James's soft laugh and continues, “It's not uncommon for Sawyer to get into fights, he's got a temper. I know he's fought with Jack a couple of times, and with Sayid a lot more often. Sayid was the one to stop him from attacking Dr. House, too.”

 

“Jarrah seems to get along quite well with House,” James notes. Juliet notices he doesn't seem to be on the first name basis with Sayid, either.

 

“Well, better than the rest of us, anyway. Meaning that I've seen them actually spending some time together voluntarily,” she laughs.

 

They continue their conversation with other topics, discussion flowing easily until later in the evening. James is particularly interested in hearing about the Island and the alleged supernatural phenomena on it. The man is such a pleasant conversationalist that Juliet is left feeling regretful he will not be staying on the Island longer.

 

**

 

Sawyer tries to fall asleep in his tent, but it's no use. Despite the late hour he's wide awake and horny as hell. Being on the Island has been one long-winded dry spell. Usually Sawyer has no problems finding willing people – _women_ – for company, but since crashing onto the Island the pickings have been slim. The only one he's been even somewhat interested in has been Kate, and she's all hung up on Jack most of the time. But after last night... Sawyer is very determinedly not thinking about it.

 

Yet, as soon as he closes his eyes he pictures Sayid's body pressing into his.

 

Eventually he gets up and isn't the least bit surprised when his feet carry him out of his tent and towards the firelight. Sawyer listens to the sound of waves hitting the beach as he walks forwards in the dark.

 

Another sound makes him freeze, and he stands rooted to the spot. He can't see all the way to the campfire, but by the way his cock hardens in recognition, he can tell who's making the sound.

 

Sawyer might have half-believed himself when he was in his tent telling himself that he was going to sleep. But he doesn't even try to lie to himself now. Sawyer knows that he should leave, and he knows that he won't. He moves silently now, the splash of the ocean and the darkness surrounding him, sitting down when he can finally see the two bodies, one he'd already known to be Sayid and the other one he recognises as House.

 

The two men are sitting by the fire looking perfectly civil for the most part, House wearing jeans and a black t-shirt and Sayid in his usual green tank top. Neither are using their hands to touch the other, but they're kissing languidly, mouths open, making sounds telling of pleasure.

 

Sawyer hears Sayid's low mumble followed by House's breathless laugh, and he watches their tongues tangle again, more intensely this time. Sayid moans into the kiss in a way that sends jolts of electricity down to Sawyer's cock. _Fuckin' hell, House must be a good kisser to elicit that sound_ , Sawyer thinks, licking his lips unconsciously.

 

Watching the attraction apparent in the kissing, Sawyer feels blood flow in his crotch, and he strokes himself through his jeans. The intensity of the kisses goes up gradually, and House interlaces his fingers with Sayid's long hair, pulling him closer softly. Sayid's fingers move through House's beard, tracing patterns on his chin and throat.

 

Sawyer is becoming impatient almost before the other men seem to be, but finally Sayid lets out a strangled moan and then he's removing his shirt fast and his hands are on the other man. House moves as if on cue, helping Sayid in taking off the t-shirt. And _Jesus Christ_ both men are being stripped of their pants and Sawyer fumbles desperately to get his own pants open. He bites hard on his bottom lip to stifle a moan as he starts rubbing his dick and he can't help but close his eyes in pleasure.

 

House makes a loud, low noise that send his eyes flying back open. _Holy shit,_ is all Sawyer is able to think. Sayid is straddling House, and Sawyer has clear view of their cocks sliding together, of the muscles on Sayid's shoulders and thighs and ass. He can see Sayid leaning down to kiss House on the mouth and then biting and sucking on his chin and neck and chest and _goddamn_ if Sawyer doesn't want to feel that mouth on himself and be the one making those high pitched cries. He trembles as he strokes himself as gently as he can, trying to hold off coming, his dick throbbing hot and hard at the sounds.

 

Sawyer can barely stop his own moan when House urges Sayid forwards and swallows his cock all the way. He watches, mesmerised, as Sayid pulls out and House's tongue twists on the head of the Arab's penis before it is enveloped again into the wet heat.

 

To Sawyer it seems like House is enjoying giving the blowjob as much as Sayid is enjoying getting it. That is, until he glances at Sayid's face, and Sawyer's earlier curiosity regarding House's mouth when he was watching the kissing is pushed up to a whole new level. Sayid's head falls backwards, and Sawyer watches him erupt, trembling as he ejaculates into the other man's mouth.

 

_Fuckin' God,_ Sawyer bites down hard on his lip, tightening his grip as he feels his own orgasm approaching him and hit him like a brick wall, stopping his breathing and shattering his awareness into bright shining lights that morph slowly into pleasure.

 

When he regains himself, House has apparently also finished, for he is laying beside Sayid in what looks like a blissful afterglow. Sawyer is feeling something similar, as well, but he forces himself to get up and walk quietly back towards the shoreline. There he washes his own come off himself before heading back towards his tent.

 

Lying down, Sawyer suspects he's only added to thoughts that will be keeping him awake in nights to come, but for now he falls into a satisfied oblivion.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

House wakes up to a sound of Wilson unpacking clothes onto the opposite bed. Apparently the man doesn't require access to a blowdryer in order to make his morning aggravating. House rolls over in the small bed, dragging the pillow over his head.

 

“Long night?” Wilson asks. House ignores him. He sighs with relief when he hears Wilson's receding footsteps, only to be irritated back to wakefulness by the sound of the shower.

 

When Wilson emerges wearing a fresh set of clothes, House shoots him a murderous look. “How can you even make that much noise in the shower? It's on the other side of the hatch,” he complains.

 

“You know, I haven't actually engineered the acoustics in this place.” Wilson notes. House shuts his eyes hoping for Wilson to take the hint, but the man continues to hover at the doorway.

 

“You seem to like Jarrah.”

 

“Aww, don't be jealous, Jimmy. I still love you.”

 

“You're flirting with him. I've only ever seen you like like that with Cuddy or Cameron. Or Stacy. With _women_.”

 

House shifts on the bed, trying to find his earlier, comfortable position. “You're leaving yourself off the list.”

 

“Wait. You flirt with me?”

 

No wonder Wilson has only ever noticed House flirting with _women_ if he discounts interactions with guys by definition. He'd say 'duh' if it weren't such an inadequate expression, but it seems Wilson catches his drift from the eyeroll.

 

“Why?”

 

Is it just him or is Wilson being extraordinarily slow today? House takes out his most patient tone, which may be rather similar to explaining something to a five-year-old. “Same reason I flirt with Jarrah. With anybody. Except Cameron, with her it's just too much fun to resist. She gets all puppy eyed and does my clinic duty for a week. But enough about me – what about you and what's-her-name? The less fun blondie?”

 

“You mean Juliet? I'm not flirting with her. You know House, some people can be nice to other people without an ulterior motive.”

 

“That is the biggest crap. They can't. And you especially can't. You never keep it in your pants.”

 

“Yet we've apparently been flirting for well over decade now and I've still somehow managed it,” Wilson states dryly.

 

“So far,” House says suggestively. Wilson seems thrown by the comment, House observes with satisfaction. It is always a victory to goad a reaction out of Wilson. After all, the man is used to pretty much anything from House by now.

 

“Come on, I think I saw coffee among the food supplies yesterday,” Wilson prods House and makes his way to the adjacent room.

 

House gets up reluctantly and grabs one of the clean t-shirts Wilson brought. He congratulates himself again for getting the Others to transport Wilson on the Island, as he definitely wouldn't want to put on the clothes from last night. Unthinking, House kicks the dirty clothes further under the bed with his right foot, and immediately freezes.

 

He still very occasionally makes the mistake of using his injured leg in a way he used to before the infarction, and he knows to expect the crippling pain that follows. But this time it doesn't come, there's just a dull ache. He stares at his leg in stunned silence, wondering if somebody's replaced it when he was sleeping. _Holy shit_ , House thinks as the conclusion forms itself.

 

His leg is hurting less.

 

He hasn't realised earlier, because the pain has been pretty close to what he usually has on his better days. But that is strange as well, he now conceives. In all rationality his leg should be worse for all the walking around on the uneven terrain. Yet, there's been no increase of pain since he came to the Island. And it's not like he remembers the last time he's had sex on the beach, but House is pretty sure that it shouldn't make his leg feel _better_.

 

“House, why aren't you dressed yet? Are you all right?” Wilson asks. 

 

House gives him a level look. “There's something about the Island. I need to talk to the miracle man.”

 

Wilson's eyes widen in shock. “ _You_ want to talk to somebody who believes that the Island cured him of a spinal injury? What's going on?”

 

House ignores him. He drags the jeans from under the bed and digs out the two bottles of Vicodin – the older one and the one handed to him yesterday by Wilson. The latter is untouched and the former still has a few pills left, which means he's had three since the previous morning. That's far fewer than his normal daily usage. Hell, that's fewer than his normal usage in six hours.

 

He can feel Wilson's puzzled eyes on him, and explains quietly without looking at him, “My leg hurts less than usual. Way less than it should.”

 

“Wow. House, that's amazing,” Wilson says with badly hidden excitement.

 

House feels the fear come with Wilson's words. “Don't make this a big deal,” he snaps. “Let's just go and find the nutjob.”

 

He feels relief when Wilson tones down any verbal expressions of joy, and they walk in silence towards the beach. Unfortunately, his brain won't shut up by command. House can't stop obsessing on the questions. Why would being on the Island improve the condition of his leg? Will it continue? Will the pain come back? What about when he leaves the Island?

 

When they get to the beach House is anxious to find out that Locke has left the camp in the morning. Nobody seems to know where he's gone to, so House resigns himself to waiting.

 

Fortunately it's less than an hour before the man returns, and House starts interrogating him about the injury. Locke seems happy to talk to him, confident about the Island's healing powers. House would waste no time in calling him a moron if it weren't for his own diminished leg pain.

 

Finally House has to accept it. There's no doubt whatsoever in his head that there's a scientific phenomenon of some kind behind it all, but without access to literature or the Internet his research will have to wait for later.

 

“Differential diagnosis,” House says, sitting next to Wilson at the food area. “It seems the Island actually has something going on that affects people's physical condition.”

 

“You do know that I'm not technically part of your team,” Wilson protests out of habit. “Do you think the Island would be behind the patient getting better, as well? We found no trace of cancer.”

 

“I didn't think you packed my team. Paraneoplastic could happen without a tumour.”

 

“I knew I was forgetting something, but it was such a short notice. Paraneoplastic wouldn't account for all of the symptoms by itself. And your leg is better.”

 

“You should be better prepared the next time you're kidnapped,” House reproaches him. “And yeah. The cancer theory has enough holes in it to make _Miracle Island_ seem like a plausible diagnosis. But it seems that it can at least repair both bones and muscle.”

 

Wilson looks stunned. “You think your leg muscle could actually be regenerating?” he asks silently.

 

House shrugs. He feels scared to acknowledge it, afraid to hope, but it's the only explanation he's come up with. He refuses to speculate the issue of the leg with Wilson, turning his focus on the patient.

 

“This explains why Jackie is getting better. However, the question is then about why he would get sick in the first place.”

 

Wilson can practically see House's mind working. He understands House's hesitation about the leg. It could be just a freaky coincidence, though House is the expert on his own pain. Still, it seems so unbelievable that after all these years, House might actually find something to help with his leg.

 

There's no point in his speculation. If there's something there, nobody better to figure it out than House.

 

“I should go stop the chemo,” Wilson says and leaves for the hatch.

 

When he gets back, House is still deep in thought. Wilson goes to look through the food supplies. It's not ideal. He could cook something out of them, but that would require using the fire. Wilson's not keen on the idea, accustomed as he is to a proper stove.

 

“The pineapples are good.”

 

Wilson smiles at Jarrah, who has come to stand beside him. The man picks out an apple, and then another after a quick thinking.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a coconut, but I don't have a proper knife.”

 

“That is easily fixed,” Jarrah winks. “Here, hold these.”

 

Wilson takes the apples from Jarrah, who sits at the table beside House and starts carving a hole into the coconut. He sits to the other side and sets the fruit on the table.

 

Wilson is sure the Arab has heard about House's conversation with Locke by now. The life on the Island must be fairly uneventful, but Jarrah leaves the topic alone, tactfully. Instead, he engages Wilson in a light-hearted discussion. He seems interested in finding out about the doctors' lives in New Jersey, but mostly steers clear of any conversation about his own past.

 

Wilson finds Jarrah enjoyable to talk to. The man has a direct way of communication and a pleasant, dark sense of humour. It's also not the first time Wilson finds himself impressed by the effortlessness with which he seems to read people, to read House. The diagnostician is soon taking part in the discussion with small comments, encouraged by the lack of expectation from either Wilson or Jarrah.

 

“Hey, blondie!” House bellows suddenly to somebody behind him. “Liked what you saw yesterday?” he asks with a leer.

 

Wilson turns around to see Sawyer, who blushes furiously and stalks away with long steps. The man is followed by Kate, who looks as bewildered as Wilson is feeling.

 

“What was that all about?” Wilson wants to know. He notices that House's devilish grin is mirrored by Jarrah's subtler amusement.

 

“ _Now_ he's having the freakout. Almost on schedule,” House remarks gleefully and Jarrah laughs softly.

 

“Freakout?” Wilson asks, his suspicions rising. House's bed had still been vacated when Wilson had fallen asleep last night, tired from the trip. He's familiar with House's insomnia, and had attributed his absence to that, but now his brain is contemplating other possibilities.

 

House feels amused when he sees Wilson's brown eyes studying him, trying to pick him apart. 

 

_This has been such an excellent little trip_ , House thinks. First yesterday's activities, which were very enjoyable indeed. Jarrah had turned out to be as confident a lover as House expected, his touch sure and skilled and pure bliss.

 

Then today, first the weird stuff with his leg, which House can't help but feel cautiously hopeful about. And then Sawyer's extremely satisfying reaction to finding out he'd been caught red-handed. Metaphorically, because they hadn't actually spotted him yesterday. However, while they had doubted Sawyer would have the guts to go as far as to join them, both House and Jarrah had been convinced that the man would be there. And his reaction just now had confirmed the suspicion.

 

House steals one of the apples, biting off a large piece. He takes his time with chewing, revelling in Wilson's curiosity.

 

“It's ironic, really. He's acting almost as if me and Jarrah had jerked off to him having sex, and not the other way around.”

 

House watches Wilson, expecting a surprised stutter followed by mockery. Instead, Wilson's eyes widen and he rises from the table, making a hasty excuse about the patient. House stares after the oncologist, who practically flees towards the woods.

 

“What the hell is up with him?” House wonders out loud, bewildered.

 

He sees amusement flash in Jarrah's eyes.

 

“What?” House snaps. He doesn't take to it well when he's unable to explain something. Especially if somebody else seems to know more than him. Doubly so if Wilson is the puzzle. He scowls at Jarrah, but his irritation is swept away by the man's next words.

 

“Have you considered he might be suffering from the same alignment as Sawyer?”

 

**

 

Wilson bails towards woods, his mind reeling.

 

_House had sex with Jarrah._

 

Firstly the fact that House is not straight, something he's always simply assumed. _Well, I never saw him with a guy_ , he thinks a little defensively. After all, who misses their best friend's sexual orientation for a full fifteen years? _He never said anything--_

 

But that, of course, is not true. House has said plenty; Wilson is the one who has never _heard_ him. Wilson wonders absently if he should document the evidence and write an article about confirmation bias. Wilson has taken it for granted that House is straight, so he's missed the fact that what he had always taken as friendly banter, House had considered flirting.

 

He replays House's words in his head, telling him that the reason he flirts with Wilson is the same as to why he flirts with Jarrah.

 

_And House had sex with Jarrah last night._

 

He can't believe it's actually taken him this long to piece it together, it seems so obvious now. House is interested in him. And his reaction to the revelation is to freak out. Which wouldn't happen for simple coming out. No. It wouldn't happen, except that Wilson can't deny he wants it, too.

 

A second set of evidence for analysis of confirmation bias – Wilson's so far unquestioned assumption of his own heterosexuality.

 

His feet take him to the hatch without conscious planning. Wilson is relieved to find it empty apart form the patient room, as he has no wish to talk to anybody right now.

 

But of course, he's out of luck. He recognises House's footsteps without a doubt, and he feels his palms sweating.

 

“It's not impressive when you're able to outrun a cripple, you know.”

 

Wilson refuses to meet House's gaze.

 

“You're an idiot,” House says softly, stepping closer, and Wilson has barely time to register the words before he feels House's lips brushing against his. His brain freezes but his mouth acts on it's own accord, lips parting and tongue seeking solace in the warmth.

 

Wilson finds himself kissing House with enthusiasm. The stubble is rough against his skin and House's taste is in his mouth and it's unfamiliar and familiar and Wilson wants to drown himself in it.

 

“You're right,” he says, clinging to House with both hands, kissing the older man with everything he's got.

 

“You know, if you're trying to talk yourself into my pants, that's the way to do it,” House mumbles into the kiss and Wilson feels like a wave has hit him and taken a pleasant hold of him.

 

The way House touches is much alike to everything else the man does, and Wilson appreciates the proficiency and the determined interest even more now that they're directed at his body. House's tongue and teeth move hot along his neck, and the stubble feels rough against his skin of his back as the man strips him of clothes and turns him around.

 

“I want to test the other theory,” House says as he pushes him on his hands and knees on the bed. Wilson's mind goes blank as he realises what House is planning.

 

House caresses his fingers along Wilson's back, wanting to feel the other man's skin under his touch. He feels most of the blood escape from his brain to his cock at the thought of being able to fuck standing upright, and rest of it follows the same way at the thought of fucking _Wilson_.

 

“I haven't done it like this since...” House grumbles, gesturing vaguely at his leg. He walks to rummage through his backpack, in the hopes that Wilson will not comment on any of it. _One person getting his hopes up like an idiot is quite enough_ , House thinks dryly.

 

He finds the condoms and lube from the bottom of the pack, happy to note he's still got them with him. He turns back and catches his breath at the sight of Wilson looking so fucking good, on the bed, ready for him.

 

“House,” comes the almost eager prompting. His attention is caught by Wilson's heavy breathing and slightly widened eyes. He feels his mouth go dry.

 

“Jesus, Wilson,” he murmurs as the comprehension comes to him. “You've never done this before, have you?”

 

“No,” Wilson admits, and House stares at him, brain function having once again left him.

 

“I would like to, now, though, if you could just get a move on,” Wilson remarks a little impatiently.

 

Wilson's voice shakes him out of the stupor and House flashes him a grin. “Never expected to be getting virgin ass at my age. Must've been a very good boy.”

 

House feels his penis is enthusiastically agreeing with Wilson about getting on with it, but he tries to ignore it, going as slowly as he can with lubed fingers.

 

“Just relax,” he says, uncertain of whether he's talking more to himself than Wilson.

 

The other man responds with a vocal grunt that makes House feel like it's his first time instead of Wilson's. The man is gorgeous with two of House's fingers sliding in and out of his ass.

 

He focuses and angles his fingers differently, and the reaction confirms to House that he's hit the right spot. Wilson arches his back and pushes against his fingers, with a keening sound that makes House feel close to coming.

 

“God, you're killing me,” House complains, and Wilson makes a noise that's protest and need and lust all bound together. House slides in a third finger and it's a few moments before Wilson is able to construct syllables into words.

 

“ _I'm_ killing _you_. House -- oh, God, --”

 

Wilson is panting and House decides they've both had enough suffering, removing his fingers and rolling on a condom.

 

House catches his breath as he slides into Wilson. His leg is hurting enough for him to favour his left one, but he couldn't care less with being able to stand behind Wilson and fuck him.

 

Wilson's ass presses tight around him and when Wilson cries out it's insanely hot. House feels his cock pulsating already and he forces himself to stay still, clutching his fingers hard into Wilson's thighs.

 

“Oh, fucking God, please, House.” Wilson is making what are possibly the most erotic sounds he's ever heard and House wants to tell him to shut up right that second and he wants to let go of control and have Wilson on his knees begging for it and fuck him into oblivion. He wills himself to stay still, breathing hard, not wanting it to be over that soon, not now that he has Wilson right there in front of him.

 

He finally regains his composure and rocks slowly into Wilson, watching his cock move in and out slick with lube.

 

Wilson moans into the thrusts, pushing back against him, his ass muscles compressing with the movement. House gasps as he feels Wilson's warmth surrounding him, enveloping his dick in hot pleasure. He trails the back muscles with his hands, instinctively studying the angles of Wilson's body now freely his to examine. House reaches to stroke Wilson's neck and lets his fingers brush through his hair.

 

“House,” Wilson's needy voice fills him with warmth and House's penis is throbbing, warning him.

 

“God -- touch yourself -- ahh, fuck, now,” he tells Wilson, and he has time to hear Wilson's relieved groan before he's pushing into the man's ass urgently, emptying himself in a flood of pleasure.

 

House falls down on the bed and reaches for the Vicodin as soon as he's thrown out the condom. Wilson follows him, resting on his back, his eyes closed. House smiles.

 

“Even if the leg improvement turns out to be temporary, this might have been worth it.” 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

He feels his stomach grumbling. 

 

 _Perfect_. 

 

Sawyer turns around and tries to fall asleep without getting up. He's got nothing in his tent. He's not one to hunt or gather his own food, too much physical exertion. _Ain't even the fun kind_ , he thinks before catching himself.

 

Sawyer has been avoiding the communal food area since House's comment. He can still feel his cheeks burning thinking about it. _They both knew all that time_. And House wanting to make him know that, make him aware that all the while he was giving Sayid _what had looked like the best goddamn blowjob in the history of mankind_ , he'd known that Sawyer was watching. Hell, probably known exactly how much he'd been wishing to be in the receiving end.

 

 _Not thinkin' about that_ , Sawyer reminds himself, forcing his mind back on food. Safer topic, despite what his stomach might be thinking.

 

While House has been relatively easy to dodge, it seems Sayid is everywhere. That is why Sawyer hasn't just been avoiding the food area, but pretty much everywhere else around the camp, too. He's spent most of his time hanging about his own tent, located a bit further away on the beach.

 

Whenever they have bumped into each other, the Iraqi has been acting as usual, which at least makes Sawyer relieved. Not annoyed in the least. Sayid isn't seeking contact with Sawyer, but he's so present in the community, being there whenever there's a need for anything practical or whenever they have to make any decisions. Especially since Jack got sick, it seems the residents are suddenly relying on Sayid for everything.

 

 _Ain't gonna be too long before the Doc gets better an' the two other ones take off_ , he thinks. Jack has been getting somewhat better, though he still hasn't woken up from the coma. Sawyer hasn't been to see him, no need when Kate is keeping him updated anyway. House and Wilson should be leaving any day now. Then everything will be back to normal.

 

 _Yeah, except that the first night with Sayid happened all without House_ , a very small voice in his head reminds him.

 

During daytime he's able to shut out the voice, but in the evening that capability is hindered by the images coming to him, unbidden, as soon as he closes his eyes.

 

 _Sayid gripping him tight, holding him still_. 

 

“Shit,” Sawyer mutters and stares at the darkness in front of him. His cock is hardening rapidly. Even in his own head that's all it takes, and Sawyer can't quite ignore the implications. Even he's not that good a con artist.

 

_Sayid's body pressing him down, warmth radiating into him. Sayid's mouth, hot, wanting, tongues clashing. Feeling the hard muscles with his hands and brown skin with his mouth, tasting the sweat and sex and lust. Dark eyes studying him with interest, skilled hands touching him everywhere. Sayid behind his back, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest, other hand grabbing his cock and jerking him off with long hard strokes until he's trembling and coming and--_

 

_Fuck._

 

It is too habitual that Sawyer ends up there again, washing the evidence off himself at the shore. _Gonna_ _go hunting tomorrow_ , he decides. _Get something new to eat_. He stops himself from hoping he'll at least be tired enough after the exercise to fall asleep quickly.

 

**

 

It's only ten thirty in the morning and already the third time Wilson rubs his neck. House can't take it anymore.

 

“What is it?” he demands.

 

“Nothing,” Wilson evades. He doesn't look up from the medical journal, in the vain hopes that House will drop it.

 

“One time doesn't make you gay, you know,” House says.

 

 _So, that's what he's worried about_ , Wilson thinks, for the glibness in House's voice doesn't quite hide the man's uneasiness. Wilson lays down the journal switching onto House's bed. He smiles at the older doctor before kissing him long and hard.

 

“Gay enough,” he tells House, who smirks.

 

“Good, because there's no way I'm gonna stop fucking you now.”

 

Wilson kisses him again, before continuing with the journal. House's eyes continue to puzzle him out, unconvinced that Wilson is actually reading. Which of course he isn't.

 

It's not surprising House notices that something is bothering him. House always notices. It's not the sex with House. That intimacy had felt strangely natural, like an extension of their friendship, even though he hasn't really ever thought of men that way before.

 

But there's no question about it – he is thinking about men in that way _now_.

 

Wilson hides behind the journal. He hopes something happens with the patient today that will draw the House's focus away from him.

 

**

 

“Hey, you wanna come get some breakfast?”

 

Kate can already guess that it's going to be useless, but she tries anyway. Sawyer has been acting even less social than usual lately, but she could really use his genial demeanour around.

 

Kate knows that the man isn't unaffected by Jack's condition, but Sawyer doesn't dwell on things and worry endlessly like she does. Not outwardly, at least. She wishes, a little selfishly perhaps, that he'd consider hanging out with the rest of the group for a while.

 

“Busy day, Freckles.” Sawyer gives her a honeyed smile. Kate can't help but smile a little in return, despite her irritation.

 

“Sawyer, you're just lying around here.”

 

“Ain't nobody missing me there.”

 

That holds more truth in it. It doesn't seem that anybody has tried to seek Sawyer's company, except for Kate. Still, she wants Sawyer around. Plus, the man would have friends if he wasn't isolating himself on purpose.

 

“With Jack sick, we need your contribution more than ever.”

 

“Don't need me, y'all got Ahmed to keep the party goin'.”

 

“What is it with you and Sayid?” she asks. It's not like the two men are usually friendly or anything, but Sawyer has been acting even more touchy than usual. She wonders if he's still pissed about Sayid stopping the fight when Dr. House had gotten to the Island.

 

“Nothing,” Sawyer replies a little too quickly. He brushes his blond hair out of his face in a self-conscious motion.

 

 _Ah, they've had another fight then_ , Kate thinks tiredly. _God, why do I have to be surrounded by these men who insist on acting like schoolboys._

 

“Come on, just hang out for a while.”

 

“Told you, not today. Fixin' to catch me some boar.”

 

“Really? You're going hunting?” Kate doesn't think Sawyer's ever been hunting, at least not without an ulterior motive. She watches stunned as Sawyer gets a rifle from his tent.

 

“You've still got a gun? I thought the Others had gotten them all.”

 

“Not this baby,” Sawyer says, patting the rifle lovingly.

 

“I'll come with you,” Kate offers seeing that Sawyer is actually planning to go. “It's not safe in the jungle alone. Especially not if they see you with a gun.”

 

“Doubt Ben is gonna do me in as long as he wants the new Docs to help him.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. Just be careful, Sawyer.”

 

“I'm a big boy, Freckles. The Doc needs your concern more than me,” Sawyer smirks. Kate can tell the man is trying to get rid of her, because he's playing the Jack-card. She relents and watches Sawyer walk towards the jungle.

 

 _This is ridiculous. I'll just ask Sayid what happened this time_ , Kate decides.

 

**

 

“Yeah, god dammit!” Sawyer grins wildly as the shot hits its target. He rushes through the trees and confirms his suspicions. He's caught a boar, and the animal has been killed instantly.

 

 _Maybe hunting ain't so bad after all_ , he thinks with glee. It's been only two hours since he left the camp, and he's spent most of the time hunched down quietly, waiting for his chance. He's not the most patient guy, and was dreading a longer wait, as well as what he'd considered a high likelihood of going back empty handed.

 

 _Well, not now I won't._ Sawyer grins as he lifts the carcass on his shoulders and starts trekking towards the camp.

 

It's an hour later that his good mood starts fading.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he curses as yet another branch catches him off guard. _Pretty sure the distance wasn't nearly this long the other way_ , he thinks grimly. Apparently carrying almost his own weight in boar on top of him will make it seem so. The trees look alike on all sides, and he's got no idea how long he's still got to walk. Sawyer briefly considers dumping the carcass, but he's sure Kate has had time to tell everybody he's gone hunting. It's big news after all, Sawyer doing some work.

 

“Need help?”

 

Sawyer is startled by Sayid coming towards him on the path. He wants nothing more than to accept the offer and then leave the Iraqi go through the jungle by himself. But he's not going to give Sayid that questionable honour.

 

“Doubt it--” Sawyer stops short with what was meant to be a sarcastic answer. He's suddenly not quite comfortable with his usual nicknames for the man. It feels like using one of them would make his own discomfort even more apparent to Sayid. As if avoiding them isn't doing the exact same thing. _Goddamn._

 

They walk in silence for a little while. Sawyer resists the urge to ask how far the beach is, figuring Sayid's probably not walked far from it. To his relief that is confirmed in a few minutes, and he sees the shoreline from between the trees.

 

“Why the hell did you come an' find me anyway?” he demands at the last possible moment, while they're still out of earshot.

 

“Why do you think?” Sayid asks with a little smile.

 

“What, you wanna fuck me?” Sawyer asks mockingly.

 

“Yes.”

 

Sawyer's caught by surprise by Sayid's direct answer. He stops in his tracks, speech having left him. Sayid turns to stand in front of him, his brown eyes drilling into Sawyer's, peeling down his defences.

 

“And I do not care for having you act as if you had nothing to do with it. I was the one to start it last time, but there is no point in keeping up appearances that you were any less willing. So. When you are interested in repeating the experience, you will need to come and tell me that yourself.”

 

 _Fuck_ , Sawyer thinks, without a more coherent though, as the other man turns away and continues towards the beach.

 

_Fuck fuck fuck._

 

It's only when the pain in his shoulders reminds him of the boar that he starts walking again.

 

**

 

 _It seems to pay off to hang out here during the day, too_ , House thinks as Jarrah emerges from the woods. House sees a knowing smile spread on the Arab's face when he notices him and Wilson sitting by the fire, a little way from a group of the Island's residents.

 

They're being all civilised in public, and House is sure none of the other people have a clue. He had met Jarrah last night and shared with him the findings regarding their latest theory, although he's certain the man would've guessed it anyway.

 

To start with, it's just way too much fun to get Wilson squirming by hinting at their now-actually-existing sex life around other people, and Jarrah obviously isn't one to be fooled into thinking there's nothing behind the remarks.

 

And then there's the unfortunate fact that he and Jarrah are no longer having sex.

 

House watches the Iraqi stretch himself by the same fire by which the two of them have sat on many nights, neither able to sleep. All they had engaged in last night had been kissing, soft and long and exploring. But the way Jarrah's tongue in his mouth had made him ache, House is certain that the other night would've repeated itself if it weren't for him and Wilson hooking up.

 

One of the curious facts about starting to fuck your best friend. It's immediately serious.

 

Not that he's not enjoying sex with Wilson. _Enjoying it so very much_ , House thinks, and he feels his cock stir in agreement. Still, House has always been an opportunist. Life sucks, most of the time, so might as well take pleasure where you can find it.

 

House just hasn't figured out where Wilson stands on the issue.

 

On one hand, it's a well documented fact that the oncologist can't keep it in his pants. Well-documented by House, anyway, and he's extremely satisfied with the latest set of evidence.

 

On the other hand, Wilson had always _tried_ to be monogamous with all his wives. And he had broken up with Julie when she had cheated on him. Then again, the marriage had been circling down the drain long before then.

 

And now there's the added complication of the whole sexual identity crisis that's bound to happen if you wait until you're forty and three times divorced and then proceed on to fuck your best friend of fifteen years.

 

House glances at Wilson and smirks as he notices that his own aren't the only eyes that have been following Jarrah's movements. Wilson is being significantly more discreet, but the interest the man's expression doesn't go unnoticed by House.

 

He turns his eyes back to Jarrah, who's tying his black hair into a ponytail. The man's hands are moving in a mesmerising way, slowly and deliberately. The dark eyes meet his briefly, and House notes the familiar amusement flicker in them. The Arab is clearly not oblivious to the examination of either one of the doctors.

 

 _Such a great trip_ , House thinks once more, smiling.

 

The sentiment is increased in a few minutes, when he sees Sawyer come out of the woods.

 

“Honey, the takeout has arrived,” House elbows Wilson.

 

“Maybe we should help out with it,” Wilson says uncertainly, as Sawyer drops the boar carcass down by the fire.

 

“Sure, I'll get right on that.”

 

“Gimme a hand with this?” Sawyer asks Jarrah, his voice slightly too stiff, tone just a bit too polite.

 

 _Interesting_ , House thinks as the Iraqi nods nonchalantly and gets up. Jarrah starts the preparations in a matter-of-factly manner, like he would've expected the question from anybody. Which is obviously the case, as he's the go-to guy of the Island.

 

Wilson offers his help, but he's of very little use. As is Sawyer, for Jarrah is handling the carcass with a familiar ease. The blond exchanges a few words with Wilson before joining the group of residents sitting on the other side of the fire. House grins at the care the man is taking to steer clear of him, apparently wishing to avoid any further comments about his voyeur habits.

 

More people gather to the fire while the meat is cooking. House is pleased when Wilson sits back down beside him. He stops himself from showing it, but he's enjoying the closeness.

 

House follows some of the discussions, but mostly just focuses on observing the people around him. Sawyer is in his element, smiling with Southern charm, clearly taking pleasure at the surprised praise from many of the Island's residents. It doesn't seem to be too often that they have meat for eating.

 

The Arab doesn't join the group of admirers when he's done with the meat, preferring to lean back against a tree trunk, hands behind his head and eyes closed.

 

 _Good tactics_ , House thinks approvingly, for Sawyer's eyes find their way to glance hungrily over Jarrah's features every few moments.

 

The pig is nearly done when a group of the Others walk towards the fire to join them. House notices that Sawyer's rifle exchanges hands quickly and it soon vanishes from the view.

 

The residents of the beach keep their distance, avoiding Linus in particular. Burke is the only one of them they really talk to, but the presence of the Others is tolerated. They also take advantage of the old-fashioned cutlery that are carried to the fire by The Boss's lackeys.

 

“Here,” Wilson says, handing him a plate with meat.

 

“There's no fries.”

 

Wilson sighs.

 

 _Just like home_ , House thinks as he steals meat from Wilson's plate instead of eating from his own. It's pretty good, though he could use something to go with it.

 

House notices Sawyer opening a white can. The exterior doesn't look appetising, but judging by Sawyer's relishing expression, the contents are beer.

 

“Excellent,” House grins, getting up and walking towards the group. The blonde gets a satisfyingly nervous expression on his face at seeing him approach.

 

“Gonna make room for a cripple?” House asks, fixing Kate with a stare. The brunette woman scrambles up with a surprised expression, and hovers around them when House sits next to Sawyer. There's suddenly more space around them, but apparently that holds little appeal and she moves to sit further away with the other residents.

 

The blond can hardly continue ignoring him now that House is sitting nearly in his space and there's suddenly nobody else in their immediate vicinity despite the group of people that had been surrounding the man just a moment ago.

 

“Aren't you gonna offer me a drink?” House winks.

 

“That's what you're after?” Sawyer asks indignantly, handing House a beer from his left side.

 

“That's not _all_ I'm after,” House murmurs in a low voice. Sawyer swallows, colour rising on his cheeks. He scowls, but House sees desire in his grey eyes. He flashes Sawyer a wide grin before getting up.

 

House starts walking back towards Wilson with the beer, but his interest is piqued as he sees the miracle man talking to Linus. There's something conspiratory in the way in which Locke leans to the man, gesturing towards the woods.

 

Nobody seems to pay the two men any heed, but House feels cold creeping up his spine as his eyes land on the large knife on Locke's side. House's concentration locks on the blade. The thought hits him and it's like he's gone deaf all of a sudden.

 

Linus makes to rise, but House moves faster. Several curious stares are directed at him as he crosses the distance to the two men. Locke's eyes flash with blue anger as he notices House advancing. The man's fingers reach for the knife, but he's brought down to his knees by House's cane landing hard on his arm. House hears the crack of the cane and it's followed by the sounds of his surroundings reaching his brain in a surge of noise.

 

The residents let out surprised gasps and cries and Locke yells out in frustration as much as in pain. The man is getting up fast, and House staggers as Wilson's fingers grab him, pulling him backwards. Locke steps towards them, but Jarrah has emerged behind the man.

 

House sees the Arab pull Locke's arms behind him expertly. The old man's eyes shut and he cries out. House swallows as Jarrah brings the man to his knees once again, now shaking from pain.

 

“What is going on?” Kate demands.

 

“Rope,” Jarrah hisses from between his teeth, and Sawyer rushes to help him tie up the man.

 

House shakes off Wilson's fingers. Stepping closer, he reaches for the knife on Locke's side and throws it away from them. House stares at the man, who looks up unyieldingly.

 

“You were trying to kill him.”

 

“I'm here for a reason. It's what the Island wants me to do,” Locke answers. His voice is clear and unhesitating. Linus watches the man, paling. One of his men steps closer to Locke, almost touching the tip of his rifle to his back.

 

“That's why you also tried to poison the patient, so that he wouldn't be able to do the surgery.”

 

Shocked gasps from the residents follow House's statement.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Sawyer curses, with a loathing look on his face.

 

“John, how could you?” Kate asks, nearly in tears.

 

“I am sorry about that,” Locke says, giving the first signs of remorse. “I never should have done it. I didn't think I could get to Ben directly with the Others guarding him constantly. But when the Island started curing Jack, I knew instantly that I had made a mistake.”

 

“What did you give him?”

 

“Brake fluid.”

 

“Not many cars around. You must have gotten it from the remains of the plane.”

 

“Yes, I did,” Locke admits.

 

“What should we do with him?” Alpert asks Linus.

 

“We should just kill him,” one of the Others says, the one trailing his rifle along Locke's shoulders. House's gut clenches.

 

“Dude,” Hurley protest from behind him.

 

“You will not kill him,” Jarrah says in a authoritative voice. “He is tied up now, and he will not be able to do any more harm. I stopped him from attacking you and I will not have his blood on my hands.”

 

“Take him and bring him with us,” Ben orders in a strained voice. His men comply, grabbing Locke by the arms and getting him on his feet.

 

“Ethylene glycol poisoning accounts for all the symptoms. Start the patient on dialysis. The Island has already stabilised him, so if he wakes up from the coma, he should be fine.”

 

Dr. Burke rushes towards the hatch, followed by dishevelled looking Kate.

 

The Others leave, dragging Locke amongst them. Jarrah watches them darkly, and House can feel anger bubbling under the surface.

 

“You're really saving my ass around this Island,” House remarks in a way of a thank you.

 

“Oh, it would certainly not be in my interests to let any harm come to it,” Jarrah replies with a grim smile.

 

“You know, that's why I like him,” House says quietly to Wilson, when Jarrah has joined the other residents, who are talking animatedly, discussing and speculating amongst themselves.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Wilson replies with a tiny smile. He feels surprised by the fact that House is making the admission so directly, but not by its content.

 

 _The surface differences make it easy to miss how alike they are_ , Wilson thinks. He watches Jarrah move amongst the residents, de-escalating the situation. He approaches people with the right amount of consideration and talks in a calming manner, effortlessly inviting trust. It's the exact opposite of how House acts with people, yet those who know the older doctor end up trusting him as implicitly.

 

Wilson feels a sudden surge of pride and affection towards both men. He sees in Jarrah what he's often admired in House. Both of them act motivated by strong principles and an anger in the face of injustice. And still, contrastingly, both of them reach for enjoyment where ever they can find it, in ways and moments that many would deem strange or inappropriate.

 

Wilson notices House shifting restlessly, and he realises with a start that he's got no idea how long they've stood there, in front of the spot where the Others had sat. 

 

“Come on,” he urges House, touching his hand gently on the man's arm, and they walk towards the hatch in silence.

 

**

 

Sayid looks at the fire, which is sharing its comforting heat with him. He feels a sense of peace about his nightly routine. He's familiar with the solitude of the hours spent in the darkness that precede going to sleep in the early morning. 

 

Locke, rising at the break of dawn, had usually been the only resident Sayid would meet right before heading over to his tent for resting. They had fallen into a strange habit of exchanging a few words at the first light of the day, with everybody else still sleeping. Now he wonders how come he's never recognised this dangerous side of the man before.

 

Locke had not gotten along well with Jack, and they had the whole thing going, with Jack being the man of science and Locke the man of faith. Sayid had quietly agreed with Jack most of the time, but he had never considered Locke's superstitions dangerous. Nor had he ever thought Locke's animosity towards Jack would reach such levels.

 

 _Perhaps it is not hate_ , he thinks now, remembering Locke's regretful expression. _Maybe the man is just crazy, and Jack simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time._

 

Sayid throws a log on the fire, pushing Locke out of his thoughts. What's happened has happened, and as long as the Others keep the man locked up, there's no need to worry about him. Sayid finds Locke's decisions disconcerting, but if he knows something from experience it's how to move to acceptance. After all, it is every night that things of the past try to reach him, and it's each night that he lets go of them, releasing what he has no control over, directing his focus on what is now and what he can do.

 

Sayid stares at the fire, letting it warm his skin, feeling like its burn is cleansing his insides. He is quiet, content with the solitude of night.

 

Yet, he is hoping for company tonight.

 

Since House has been on the Island, he's often had interruptions to the solitude, that he's found to be pleasant. It seems the doctor sleeps nearly as badly as Sayid himself, except he gets up later and takes naps during the day.

 

On many nights they've shared company for a few hours, spent in comfortable ebb and flow of conversation. Besides that one night, they've only engaged in flirting and some light kissing. The attraction is still just as obvious under the surface, but Sayid doesn't want to step in the middle of whatever it is that's between House and Wilson, so he's happy with letting House initiate.

 

Tonight House hasn't been to the fire, and Sayid is hoping for somebody else to join him instead. He thinks the likelihood of Sawyer showing up is about the same as not.

 

Sayid's skin tingles at the thought of the man's touch, and he's partly regretting his decision to leave things up to Sawyer. But a bigger part of him knows it's just not worth it otherwise. He can't help to find it ironic that Sawyer, coming from _land of the free and the home of the brave_ , is less comfortable with his desires towards men than Sayid, who is one of the Iraqis considered by many Americans to be in need of freeing.

 

It had been long ago that Sayid made his peace with being primarily interested in men. He has no qualms with expressing his willingness to Sawyer, but he's not sure if Sawyer will brave doing the same. The chemistry between them is palpable, and Sayid desires to feel Sawyer's body against his. 

 

But he feels it's a question of principle and one directly linked to the respect he has for the other man.

 

_I want to fuck you, Sawyer, but only if you're man enough to admit it's what you want, as well._

 

It's nearly sunrise when Sayid hears the steps he's no longer much expecting. Sawyer's expression is defiant. “Fine, whatever.”

 

Sayid feels a surge of excitement, but he stays silent, looking at Sawyer expectantly. The man blushes under his gaze.

 

“Yes, all right, I'm fuckin' interested. Jesus.”

 

“Good. So am I.” Sayid feels a smile rise on his face, and he gets up from the ground. “We should go somewhere else.”

 

Sawyer takes off towards the jungle, and Sayid follows him. They walk in silence for a while. It feels like the air is loaded with anticipation radiating from both of them. Finally Sawyer stops at a small clearing, turning to face Sayid. Apparently Sawyer has hesitated long enough, because he draws Sayid into a hungry kiss. Sayid feels lust surge in him like a dam breaking, and he is swept into the kiss, his hands searching the muscles on Sawyer's back and his fingers trailing the man's rib bones.

 

Sayid musters up all his will power to stop himself from reaching for Sawyer's pants, but he reminds himself of the other things he's looking for and stops his hands from moving downwards at Sawyer's sides. He breaks from the kiss, locking his eyes into the ones in front of him, now a shade of green mixing with the grey.

 

“Sawyer. I would like to hear from you what you want.”

 

“Goddamn, Sayid,” Sawyer exhales. His voice comes out low and raspy. “You trying to kill me? I ain't good at the whole talkin' thing.”

 

“I don't expect you to be comfortable. But you can trust me.”

 

“I know, alright? I do.”

 

The ready admission takes Sayid by surprise, but he's warmed by it. Sawyer doesn't strike him as a person who trusts easily, and they have been through more than most. Sayid is just as surprised by what he hears next.

 

“I want you to restrain me, to hold me still.” Sawyer's voice has gone almost inaudible, but he looks Sayid directly in the eye.

 

Sayid swallows down hard. It's not like he hasn't noticed the effects of it on Sawyer, the effects on himself, but there's still a difference between craving it and saying it out loud. He meets Sawyer's gaze levelly. Sayid is the one who drove them into this corner, and there's no other option left but to meet Sawyer's openness with his own.

 

“Yes. I want to do that,” he says in a low voice. He feels the other man shiver under his hands.

 

Sayid keeps his movement slow and deliberate. He doesn't force but gently guides Sawyer down on the ground, and Sawyer lowers himself on his stomach, his face turned to the side, never breaking eye contact. Sawyer offers his hands to Sayid, who takes hold of Sawyer's wrists and moves the man's arms behind his back, pinning them to the man's body with his own weight.

 

The resulting hold is no less satisfactory than the one taken by force on earlier occasions, rather Sayid feels heady at Sawyer's willingness to relinquish himself into his hands. Sawyer is lying under him, breathing rugged with desire, rendered still as effectively as he was bound down. The position makes it impossible to hold eye contact anymore, except when Sayid reaches to kiss Sawyer, who answers with fervour, the grey of his eyes blazing hot ice.

 

“Fuck yes,” Sayid mumbles, moving to trail Sawyer's jawline with his mouth, stopping at his ear, breathing heavy.

 

“Since have demanded you tell me what you want, I should apply the same standards to myself.” Sayid feels his voice come out thickened with lust, and he feels more than hears Sawyer's gasp.

 

“I want to do this again. I want to touch you and feel you under my hands. I want to give you pleasure. I want to use rope to tie you so that my hands are completely unoccupied,” Sayid says slowly, relishing every reaction Sawyer's expression betrays at the sound of his voice.

 

“I want to tell you what to do. But I want you to tell me what you want, and I especially want you to tell me if I do something you do not want. Will you do that?” he asks, suddenly serious.

 

“Yeah, fine,” Sawyer promises.

 

He looks at Sawyer's expression, open and vulnerable like he's never seen it before. It comes to him now, what must follow. Sayid takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself for the disclosure. Fear is recoiling in the pit of his stomach, seeking to get the best of him.

 

Sayid wonders at how sick it is that earlier in his life he was forced to become almost accustomed to inflicting pain on unwilling victims, yet it feels impossible to ask to do so.

 

How sick it is that he's done it to Sawyer himself, in a moment of mistaken sense of justice.

 

That feels like a lifetime ago, and yet the self-hatred burns at him just as it had immediately after the fact. How in god's name can he ask this from Sawyer? Yet, how can he recline from admitting his own desire when he's the one who demanded that from Sawyer?

 

 _Fuck. I can't do it like this._ There is suddenly such a sense of wrongness with having Sawyer restrained in that helpless position. Despite the different way of ending up there, it reminds him too much of coercion. He moves sideways off Sawyer, sitting on the ground next to him, forcing himself to meet the man's eyes, though he wants nothing more than to hide away from Sawyer's searching expression.

 

“Please, get up. I do have to hold myself up to the same standards. But you need to be able to leave,” Sayid can't help but to look away.

 

Sawyer heaves himself up and sits right in front of him, legs spread apart on each side of him. His hands steer Sayid's face back to look at him.

 

“Hey, I ain't gonna leave.”

 

Sayid meets his eyes reluctantly. “You don't know that. You don't know what--” His voice trails off, but Sawyer's grey eyes won't release his.

 

“So, enlighten me.”

 

“I don't need to, but I want to-- I mean, I feel the desire to-- hurt you,” he admits quietly. The self-loathing is making it impossible to look at Sawyer, but Sawyer's determined hold is making it equally impossible not to.

 

To Sayid's bewilderment, a wide grin spreads on Sawyer's face. “Damn. Should'a known you'd be into some kinky shit.”

 

“What?” he asks, stunned.

 

Sawyer leans in to kiss him. Sayid closes his eyes. Sawyer's lips are soft and his hands feel warm on Sayid's face. He feels his own lips part for Sawyer, who continues kissing him gently. Sawyer's body radiates comforting warmth.

 

“C'mon now,” Sawyer mutters softly, and Sayid only notices the tears when he feels Sawyer's fingers brush against his cheek.

 

There's some weird irony to all of it. He's actually crying. He cannot remember crying about anything for a long time, apart from Shannon dying. That had been a reason. _Yet, here I am crying about_ this _and the man who I want to hurt is comforting me_. Sayid feels laughter building in him. “Fuck,” he says, and some of it bursts out with it. He sees Sawyer smirk, and that causes the laughter to well up again.

 

“An' now you're gettin' all hysteric on me. And here I thought I ain't gonna have to worry about that, with fuckin' a guy an' all.”

 

”Sawyer...” he starts but trails off, not knowing what it is he's trying to say.

 

“So, you wanna order me around and beat me up. Ain't nothing new about that, is there now? I say let's get on with it already.”

 

Sayid is unable to tell whether he's relieved or disturbed about Sawyer's making light of it all. He watches with mixed feelings as Sawyer stands up and removes his pants. The sight of the other man standing naked in front of him makes him catch his breath. It's clear from Sawyer's erection that he's no less aroused than before, and Sayid feels himself hardening rapidly. 

 

The want is building inside him, and when Sawyer sits back down to kiss him, it overtakes his agitation. Sayid's hands find hold at Sawyer's back and drag him closer, his mouth tasting Sawyer and he's suddenly wearing way too many clothes himself. He strips and then it's Sawyer's body pushed to the ground, tanned skin against brown, Sawyer's hard cock against his, willing mouth opening for Sayid's tongue, pain and pleasure mixed in the grey eyes as Sayid's fingers dig into Sawyer's arms hard enough to bruise. 

 

Sayid feels pleasant warmth as Sawyer's dick moves against his. Sawyer pushes his hips up against him and Sayid responds by pushing back, forcing him back against the ground, his hands still pressing down on Sawyer's arms. His penis grinds into Sawyer's stomach, and Sawyer's pushes hard against his thigh.

 

It's Sawyer's moan that makes him yearn to hear noises less controlled. He bites on Sawyer's neck and somehow finds the self-control to keep it light. But the bite on Sawyer's shoulder is need and lust and desperation, and Sawyer cries out in a way that makes Sayid come undone like nothing before. 

 

”Fuck, God,” he gasps, holding onto Sawyer like an anchor as the world around him bursts, pleasure surrounding him so deep he doesn't think or feel or know anything else.

 

In the darkness he feels Sawyer's lips on his and he comes back to himself to see Sawyer's eyes on him, warm and willing and wanting him.

 

Sayid closes his eyes, kissing Sawyer, who gasps as Sayid finally releases the hold on his arms. Sayid rubs his hands gently on the muscles, trailing his fingers to caress where he bit down earlier. He moves his other hand to Sawyer's cock, which answer's his touch eagerly and it's in a few strokes that he feels Sawyer coming, arching into Sayid's hand, wailing his enjoyment into Sayid's mouth.

 

Sayid drops down at Sawyer's side, his body refusing to move enough to reach for any of the clothes. He sighs, content, when Sawyer's arm drapes around him, and he falls asleep with the first light of dawn long passed.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Sawyer feels relieved when he opens the hatch door and is met by silence. He and Sayid had woken up around midday, and they've managed to get to the hatch without running into anybody. Sawyer heads straight to the showers. He feels sore and sticky after the short sleep on the jungle floor, though how they'd ended up there had empathetically been worth it.

 

The tepid water of the shower does nothing to lessen the surge of lust as he remembers Sayid coming, delirious, grinding hard into his body. He remembers Sayid clutching his arms, and Sawyer isn't sure if the man was even aware of the incoherent words escaping him. Sawyer hadn't been able to make out even the ones that had been uttered in English.

 

Sawyer hears a noise from his right, and the somewhat embarrassed expression that on Sayid's face when he throws him a towel tells Sawyer their luck has run out. No surprise there, it had been practically a miracle that they had gotten to the hatch without somebody coming across them.

 

He draws his jeans back on and gets out of the showers, drying his hair. He's unsurprised to see Sayid sitting on the bed of the alcove, with House and Wilson sitting on the opposite one.

 

Sawyer walks to them. Sayid looks at him and then quickly away.

 

”Might want to wear this,” House smirks, throwing him a t-shirt from the pile of clothes on his backpack. The glance Wilson directs at his shoulder makes Sawyer feel self-conscious.

 

Wilson feels his mouth go dry. He can't quite stop staring at Sawyer as House's shirt covers the bitemark. _It's like both House and Jarrah have marked him_ , he finds himself thinking, slightly taken aback.

 

Yet, there's also something intriguing about the thought. Wilson's eyes wander to the bruises on Sawyer's arms, low enough to show even with the t-shirt on.

 

He is startled by a woman's voice.

 

”Jack is finally awake,” Kate announces, walking to them excitedly. Wilson notices her eyes land on the bruises on Sawyer's arms.

 

“I can't believe you, Sawyer!” she exclaims. “You've been fighting again?”

 

When Sawyer doesn't reply, she directs a questioning look at Jarrah, who looks away, doing a much worse job than usual at fending off her suspicions.

 

”Don't worry, they've already kissed and made up,” House smirks as he brushes past the woman, limping towards the patient room.

 

Wilson gives Kate an apologetic smile, one he's gotten so expert at producing at House's statements when the man is saying something so insane it can't possibly hold any truth in it. Even when it does. The woman follows House with a bemused expression.

 

 _That's typical. House never wants to see the patient except now that there's a miracle cure to explore_ , he thinks.

 

Wilson notices that Sawyer is about to follow. He takes the man by the arm, steering clear of the bruised area.

 

”Here,” Wilson says, feeling himself blushing. ”You should take one of my shirts.”

 

“Thanks,” Sawyer replies, throwing on the button-up so that there's nothing showing but the slight red spot on his neck.

 

Sayid has a sickening feeling in his stomach as he listens to Sawyer cover himself up.

 

 _I did that_.

 

Sayid doesn't look up when he hears Sawyer walk towards him. But he flinches, startled, when Sawyer's lips press softly against his.

 

“Hey, I ain't gonna let you feel bad about us, again,” Sawyer mutters. His expression is stern, but there's a warmth in his eyes that makes Sayid smile despite himself. He kisses Sawyer back, feeling a sense of relief.

 

A movement catches his eye, and Sayid glances at Wilson, who's perched at the doorway slightly awkwardly. He breaks the kiss.

 

”We should go see Jack.”

 

”In a minute,” Sawyer smirks. ”Somehow I'd hazard a guess that we ain't bothering the good doc over here.”

 

”Oh no, please don't mind me,” Wilson smiles, the properly polite tone of his voice in conflict with the definite interest in his eyes.

 

Sayid feels Sawyer's mouth on his again and he's just about forgotten about their surroundings when the sound of footsteps makes Sawyer bolt away from him.

 

”He's making Juliet run all kinds of blood tests--” Kate stops, her eyes moving from Sayid to Sawyer, who's blushing furiously.

 

”Um, I should go and check on House,” Wilson notes quickly, leaving towards the patient room.

 

 _She didn't see us kiss, but Sawyer is acting strange enough to give it away_. Sayid doesn't really care one way or other, but it's obvious that Sawyer does. _And the bruises_ , he remembers, feeling more apprehensive at the prospect of being outed about that side of his sexuality.

 

 _If Kate finds out, the whole Island will soon know_ , Sayid thinks. He feels cold creep up his skin. Sayid is feeling very raw about it, even with the other man's unyielding acceptance. And while neither of the two doctors hadn't so much as blinked an eye at seeing the marks on Sawyer's body, he doubts everybody would be as accepting.

 

 _Especially towards a former Iraqi torturer who gets off on pain_ , he adds to himself, with sudden resolve.

 

“I accept your apology,” Sayid says, directing a meaningful look at Sawyer.

 

“Wha--” Sawyer starts, puzzled.

 

“I know you did not mean what you said. I am sorry, as well. I should not have escalated the fight when I knew you were upset about Jack.”

 

Sawyer catches up quickly. “Alright, whatever.”

 

Sawyer scowls at him, but Sayid has to stop himself from smiling at the warmth he sees in his eyes, noticing that they've become nearly green again. The blond turns away and stalks off towards the exit of the hatch.

 

”What was that about?” Kate asks quizzically.

 

”You know Sawyer,” he says vaguely, thankful for the man's well known tendency to get into fights. She seems to accept that for an explanation, and they walk together to the patient room.

 

**

 

Wilson tries to ignore Jarrah's knowing smirk when the Arab directs him towards Sawyer's tent.

 

He hasn't taken too much time to engage in self-reflection about deciding to come see Sawyer. He suspects that only a part of the motivation had come from feeling restless at the hatch after they had established that the patient was indeed fine again.

 

House had wanted to run all the tests he could think of. He'd gotten an impressive amount done during the time it had taken for Jack to get his head around the fact that he'd been put in a two-week long coma by John Locke.

 

However, Jack had soon refused any further tests and gotten up despite Wilson's recommendation to rest until the following day. He'd become even more indignant after recognising House's name. Apparently the man had some strong views about practising under influence, and was unimpressed by House's reputation.

 

“God, does everybody on this Island have daddy issues...” House had muttered under his breath and Wilson had decided it was time for him to let the two stubborn doctors have it out by themselves.

 

He's feeling satisfied with his decision now that he approaches Sawyer's tent.

 

“Well, if it ain't the newest doc.” Sawyer flashes Wilson a radiant smile. “How's the original one doin'?”

 

“He's alright. Doctors always make the worst patients, though,” Wilson smiles.

 

He sits down, glancing at Sawyer, who's still wearing the borrowed clothes. House's shirt looks like the right size, but Wilson's is tight around the shoulders, pronouncing the muscles on the man's arms. With Jarrah's marks covered, the connotation of ownership is no longer there, but Wilson still can't shake the thought now that it has grasped his mind.

 

“So, how long before y'all gonna be taking off now that the Doc ain't sick no more?” Sawyer asks.

 

“I'm not sure. We should be getting back. But the Island has been making House's leg better, the pain seems to be much more manageable.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. He's still taking Vicodin, but it's more to avoid withdrawal. And out of habit, I think.”

 

“An' whaddya figure once you get home?”

 

“I have no idea,” Wilson admits. He's hoping that the improvement is going to be permanent, but there's no way to know without knowing what is causing it. House seems optimistic, though, which is a promising sign – House is never optimistic unless there's a reason.

 

“So,” Sawyer turns to look at him, grinning. “You two are fuckin', right?”

 

“Why would you ask that?” Wilson feels heat rising on his cheeks. He's still somewhat unaccustomed to the whole concept, not quite knowing what to think about people seeing him as anything other than straight. Though with Sawyer, it's not a fear of judgement that's making him nervous.

 

“Me? Just figured only fair since you know me an' Sayid are doin' it. Reciprocity's important, ain't it?”

 

“Yeah,” Wilson admits feeling a smile rise on his face. Sawyer's charm, directed at him with full force, is something of a high.

 

“Yeah, you agree, or yeah, you're having sex?” Sawyer teases.

 

“Both, of course.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

Wilson can't help but laugh. Sawyer looks at him questioningly.

 

“Just thinking it's funny you should say that,” Wilson notes before kissing him.

 

Sawyer's mouth answers him with a pleasant softness. Wilson has time to feel surprised that it's almost gentle. But then Sawyer kicks it up a whole set of levels and all of a sudden it's passion and heat and arousal, and it's making Wilson dizzy and he wonders if he could've been kissing men like this all his life.

 

“So, I was thinking--,” Wilson starts when he can catch his breath. He feels nervous excitement build in his gut, as well as determination.

 

“Yeah?” Sawyer asks. He breaks away from the kiss, clearly interested to hear where this is going.

 

“We could maybe join you and Jarrah tonight?”

 

“Ain't gonna have no problems with that,” Sawyer answers flirtatiously.

 

“Well, I'm happy to hear you think that,” Wilson says, and then chooses further kissing over further talking.

 

**

 

House glances up from the journal when he hears Wilson returning to the hatch. He watches Wilson's jittery behaviour with curiosity.

 

“So.” House says, and Wilson starts. _Yeah, definitely something going on_ , House notes, intrigued. It's easy to tell Wilson is nervous but he also seems bubbly and excited.

 

“Another idiot patient cured then,” House continues.

 

“He's probably not going to kill himself with getting up too soon. Or do you think we should have gotten an AMA for Cuddy?” Wilson comments lightly.

 

“I doubt that's what she'll be pissed off about when I see her the next time.”

 

“Yeah, probably not.” Wilson's grin is suspiciously wide.

 

“All right, what's with you?”

 

“I had an idea,” Wilson starts hesitantly.

 

The man is blushing deliciously, and House smirks, satisfied. _This is gonna be something awesome_. He makes no attempt to help him out, enjoying watching him agonise.

 

“I was thinking we might join Sawyer and Jarrah tonight,” Wilson admits squirming.

 

“Cool, a foursome. _Kinky_.”

 

“You're not... bothered?”

 

“Hell no, I like kinky,” House leers.

 

“I just don't want anything that--,” Wilson gestures nervously. “I mean, you know, we haven't exactly talked about where we stand and all...”

 

“Wilson, you're such a girl.”

 

“House...”

 

“All right, here's The Talk. We live together and we're best friends. If we were two tigers away from an act in Las Vegas previously, where do you think sex has landed us? I've kept you around for a fifteen years even without getting to fuck your pretty little ass. Pretty damn obvious I want to stick around in the future as well, as long as you want that, too.”

 

“Yeah, of course I do,” Wilson says.

 

The softness in Wilson's eyes makes House feel threateningly warm inside. “Don't get all sappy on me,” he warns.

 

“Oh, wouldn't dream of it,” Wilson assures him, although the look on his face makes House suspect Wilson will be breaking that promise at some point.

 

Possibly a problem he'll be able to live with.

 

“So, you're hot for Jarrah and his boytoy. Who isn't.” House winks. It's way too much fun to make fun of the ridiculously good-looking blond, although his private opinion of Sawyer has risen during the time he's spent on the Island.

 

“But aren't you worried one of us might get jealous?”

 

“Nope. I want you to do whatever you want. That includes doing whoever you want.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Just as long as you keep on doing me.”

 

“That won't be a problem,” Wilson assures him, and there's an enticing glint in his brown eyes as he moves to provide evidence in support of the claim.

 

**

 

 _Jesus Christ_.

 

Sawyerfeels heat spread across him as he watches House and Wilson exchange kisses that start out as soft and tender but progress towards passionate.

 

He is bound from the wrists, kneeling on the forest floor, as Sayid had once had him, except the context is much more pleasant. And this time he's naked, acutely aware of the visibility of his full erection to the other men, who are still mostly clothed. Sayid is kneeling on his left side. Sawyer shivers as he feels Sayid's right hand caress his neck, Sayid's warm lips on his skin, making a path of gentle kisses upwards along his back and shoulder.

 

“You two ready over there?” House asks, and Sawyer feels his breath catch at the apparent lust at the man's voice.

 

“If you want to stop, press my hand and I will take care of it,” Sayid murmurs, taking his left hand. Sawyer nods and watches as House walks to them, leaving his cane propped up by the rock on which Wilson is sitting with an anticipatory expression.

 

Sawyer swallows, his arousal rising. House's blue eyes are piercing him with a predatory look that reminds him much of Sayid. It seems the doctor is still vary of his bad leg, avoiding to set weight on it when he crouches down slightly to kiss him. _Finally_. Sawyer answers eagerly when House's lips press against his and the man's tongue explores his mouth with warm and slow interest. Sawyer is getting heady, and the contact merely increases the preoccupation his mind has been developing ever since he witnessed House's mouth bringing Sayid off.

 

Sayid feels his erection press hard against his pants as he watches the way Sawyer is kissing House, fervently, the doctor's beard rasping the blonds smooth skin. Sayid's breath catches at the needy sound Sawyer makes at the back of his throat and he feels Sawyer's muscles strain under his hand when House rises back up.

 

Sayid kisses Sawyer's chin, not letting his eyes leave the man. He loves the way Sawyer's emotions show on his face, at least to Sayid who is trained at reading people and maybe even better at reading Sawyer. Right now the man's expression betrays desire and impatience.

 

House opens his pants and Sayid clutches hard on Sawyer's shoulder as he watches the blond run his tongue slowly along House's erection.

 

“Fucking God, that's hot,” Sayid murmurs.

 

Sawyer shivers and takes the penis in his mouth, sucking on the tip. House moans and rests his hands against the tree behind Sawyer, leaning against the trunk, taking some of the weight off his right leg.

 

“Yeah, it is,” Wilson agrees. He's come to stand closer, watching, eyes alternating between the blissful expression on House's face and the activity causing it. He's still dressed from waist down, but his arousal shows clearly nevertheless.

 

Wilson walks behind House, not touching the man. He looks at Sayid, eyes full of flirt, as he spreads some lube on his fingers.

 

“Jarrah, what do you think? Should I fuck him?” Wilson asks and House's blue eyes fly open in surprise. Sawyer makes another needy sound that makes Sayid nearly tremble with lust.

 

“Yes, I think you should,” Sayid replies, watching House's face.

 

“Oh, God,” House gasps as Wilson's fingers trail down his spine. They move downwards, and while Sayid doesn't see the specifics, he can anticipate the reaction. Sayid grasps Sawyer's hair, holding his head still as House bucks into his mouth.

 

House's moan sends electric jolts of arousal right into Sayid's cock, but he focuses his attention on Sawyer's expression, as well as his own left hand, which remains linked with Sawyer's, watching for any signs of wanting to stop. When none come, he lets himself revel in the sight in front of him.

 

Wilson has taken hold of House's hips with the other hand, restraining House's motions. Still, House's back arches and he cries out as Wilson's fingers hit his prostate. Sayid watches, mouth dry, as House's cock sinks deeper into Sawyer's mouth. Sayid grasps Sawyer's hair harder and the way the man's eyes widen is almost too much.

 

House grasps almost painfully at the tree trunk he's hands are resting on. He feels like his head might explode with the simultaneous sensations of Sawyer's mouth around his cock and Wilson's fingers inside him. _God, this is the reason to fuck doctors – anatomy knowledge_ , he thinks, as Wilson's fingers brush against his prostate again.

 

Then they are gone and House feels himself tense slightly as he feels Wilson's dick against his ass. It's not like he hasn't been at the receiving end of penetration before, but it's been a few years since the last time and House hadn't exactly planned on it today. But apparently Wilson had.

 

House feels himself relax as Sawyer's mouth captures his focus, and he concentrates on the sensation in his cock as he feels Wilson pushing in slowly. He breaths out, gripping the surface of the tree, and holding still until Wilson is completely in. He's distracted by looking down and seeing that wicked glint in Jarrah's dark eyes as the man watches Sawyer's tongue trail the slit of House's penis, and it's right then that Wilson starts rocking into him slowly.

 

House feels pleasure emanate to all over his body, and then Wilson shifts a little and his cock hits House's prostate and _fuck_ it's so good that he definitely won't let it be years until the next time, which probably won't be difficult to arrange based on the sounds Wilson is making as he fucks him.

 

It soon begins to feel overwhelmingly good, Sawyer's mouth surrounding his dick in its heat, and Wilson hitting his prostate over and over. House closes his eyes and leans against the tree. Wilson's hands are holding his hips and House has little control over his body moving, let alone how deep his dick is sinking in Sawyer's mouth, and he's lacking a thought coherent enough to wonder whether he's choking the man, forcing him to rely on Jarrah to keep that from happening.

 

The intensity feels like too much, way too much, until all that remains in his head is _fuck can't take this anymore,_ but House has always been one to want too much of everything, too much intensity, too much enjoyment, too much pleasure. And so he rides the wave even as it feels like he's drowning in it and _holy shit, this is what it feels like to be alive_. And _fuck_ it feels like his soul is being sucked out of him and fucked out of him and the roaring in his ears is coming from his own mouth and _hellfuckjesusfuckinggod._

 

Sayid feels his cock hurt from arousal as he hears and watches House erupt, his body contracting in pleasure, trapped between Wilson and Sawyer.

 

Wilson holds onto House's hips hard, and Sayid pulls Sawyer's head back, releasing his hold so that the other man can control how much of House's come he swallows. Sawyer's eyes are open, the blue of them glazed with lust but locked onto House's blissful expression.

 

Sayid hears Wilson coming with House, and he's not surprised, rather it feels unbelievable that Wilson has been able to drag it out as long as he had while listening to House's eager, uncontrolled sounds.

 

House has stilled, with occasional tremors, and Sayid leaves it for Wilson to help him down on the ground. His brain shuts off the two men beside them, as he moves to face Sawyer, who's taking in sharp breaths.

 

Sayid moves his left hand to Sawyer's other side, so the man can hold onto it with his right. He feels uncertain that Sawyer would be able to communicate his will to stop with words at the moment, even though his mouth is no longer occupied.

 

Sayid runs his right hand on Sawyer's body, caressing his chin and shoulders and chest. He loses himself in the expression in Sawyer's eyes, the vulnerability and desire and openness. His fingers trail paths on Sawyer's skin, and as he feels Sawyer's breathing soften, he leans in to kiss him. Sawyer's mouth meets his almost desperately, and Sayid doesn't want to stop the kiss. He begins to feel breathless before Sawyer breaks away, resting his forehead against his.

 

Sayid wraps his fingers around Sawyer's cock and it feels like he's grounding himself, satisfaction spreading into his body with the sight and sounds of Sawyer's pleasure as he starts jerking him off.

 

Wilson feels House's breathing hot on his neck and he shivers as he watches Sawyer tremble at Jarrah's touch. The blond is eliciting increasingly loud sounds of pleasure before he's coming, leaning heavily at the other man's chest. Jarrah cuts him free fast, and both men lie down on the ground. The Arab is still fully hard, and he begins to stroke himself fast.

 

“You should help him out,” House murmurs in his ear suggestively. Wilson feels himself shiver and he moves over to Jarrah. The man's eyes fly open as he feels Wilson come near him and take his penis in his mouth.

 

“Ahh, _fuck_.”

 

Jarrah's curse morphs into a series of whimpers and moans as Wilson sucks him off. He moves his lips gently, his tongue feeling the pulsing of Jarrah's cock. He's done it to House a few times by now, but it's still unfamiliar mechanics to be in the providing end of blowjobs. However, Wilson knows what feels good when he's getting one, and giving pleasure has always come easily for him.

 

Jarrah's enjoyment is obvious from the way he trashes. Wilson feels the intriguing pulsing on his tongue and under his fingers as the man ejaculates. Wilson draws back and lets most of it spill on Jarrah's chest, already slick with Sawyer's come. He feels his own arousal surge again but it doesn't transform into a physical response. He lies down, thoroughly spent.

 

Wilson shivers, as Jarrah's warm breath is suddenly on his neck. Fuck, the man sure could move quietly. “I normally do not wait until somebody has had my cock in their mouth before doing this,” the man mumbles before kissing him. It's pleasant, soft and slow.

 

“Could get used to this,” Sawyer remarks from Jarrah's other side, with lazy enjoyment.

 

“Yes,” Jarrah agrees in a low voice, breaking the kiss.

 

Wilson glances at House, who is watching him intently.

 

“Yeah,” Wilson agrees. He has time to see House's smile, before Jarrah kisses him again.

 

**

 

Wilson gets a bad feeling as soon as they walk into the hatch and see a group of the Others waiting in the biggest room. The gathering includes Linus and Alpert, as well as Locke, who shows no signs of being in any kind of restraints. Wilson's stomach drops.

 

“How nice of you all to join us. You two should sit down,” Linus addresses Jarrah and Sawyer. The two men direct black glances at him and Locke before taking seats at the table.

 

“Here.” Alpert puts down two small cups containing two pills each. Wilson feels apprehension rising in his gut. “It is time for you two to be leaving the Island now.”

 

“Doctors, we do wish to thank you for your help,” Linus says.

 

“Any time. Nothing says 'thanks for catching the madman and saving me and other guy he tried to murder like letting the madman walk free,” House says sarcastically.

 

“Dr. House, I have already apologised for trying to kill Jack. It was an err of judgement on my part,” Locke says.

 

“Yes, we have cleared things up and understood that it's all been a simple misunderstanding,” Linus smiles. The friendly expression chills Wilson more than anything else the man has done so far.

 

“What the hell?” Sawyer demands heatedly.

 

“Ben, you are not serious about letting him go. He tried to kill you, as well,” Jarrah says in a low voice. Somehow his calm is more intimidating than Sawyer's more obvious anger. Wilson sees Linus recoil, before he plasters the sickly smile back on his face.

 

“Sayid, I suggest you be quiet unless you want to be the next person to familiarise yourself with our prisoner facilities.”

 

Wilson sees a grim smile rising on House's face.

 

“The guy survived it when Bush used his country to demonstrate Hussein that _mine is bigger than yours_. Kinda doubt your goons will pose a huge challenge.”

 

“House,” Wilson says warningly. He's no less disturbed by what's going on on the Island, but he fears they can only make things worse.

 

 _He can never act against his principles no matter what the consequences_ , Wilson thinks anxiously. Then again, House's strong sense of justice is something he admires.

 

“Go on, doc,” Sawyer says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “We're gonna come an' see ya in Princeton once we get outta this shithole.”

 

“Dr. House,” Richard Alpert says. “You know that we can do this with force. As with when I asked you to come here, we would prefer your co-operation. For everybody's sakes,” the man adds warningly.

 

House's eyes flicker quickly towards Wilson, and then at the two men sitting at the table. He rubs his thigh absently, directing a withering stare at Linus.

 

“Glad to have saved your life,” House spits out. Wilson sighs in relief when he takes the pills, and he follows immediately, hoping to avoid seeing House's frame collapse on the floor of the hatch.

 

 _It's back to normal, then_ , Sawyer thinks darkly as he watches the Others transport the two unconscious doctors away. Locke goes with them, apparently all best buddies with Ben again.

 

His gaze travels to Sayid's face. The Arab is staring at Ben with a stony look.

 

When all the Others have taken off, his brown eyes meet Sawyer's, determined.

 

“I will find a way to get us out of here,” Sayid says.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Sawyer replies with no hesitation, only at that point realising the truth in it. He does. Sayid's expression softens into a small smile.

 

“So,” Sayid says after a while. “The visitors are gone. It will just be the two of us fucking, now.”

 

Sawyer feels taken aback by Sayid's sudden change of mood, but he grins. “Unless we get the Doc to join us.”

 

“Hmm, there is another House's theory proven, then.”

 

“What?”

 

“We did suspect that intense doctors might be your type,” Sayid says with self-satisfied smile.

 

“I guess so, then,” Sawyer laughs. “Although I'm actually pretty happy with fuckin' just you for a while.”

 

“Yes. Perhaps until we get to New Jersey.”

 

Sayid looks at him intently. Sawyer is engulfed into Sayid's dark eyes, reading in them promises of what they'll have together – tonight and many following nights. He feels both hot and cold shivers run across his skin.

 

“Deal.”

 

**

 

House wakes up to a familiar sound. _Wilson's blowdryer_ , he recognises, and for once the thought is pleasant. _Home._

 

He gets up from his own bed, which is somewhat disturbing, but at least the Others have dumped him on it fully clothed.

 

He limps to the kitchen, smile rising to his face. Surrounded by the familiarity of designer-picked furniture and Wilson-picked piano, the Island feels almost like a distant dream.

 

“Wilson!”

 

“House, what is it? Everything okay?” Wilson asks, hurrying to the open plan kitchen.

 

“Need to test a theory.” House crosses the room to kiss him long and enthusiastic.

 

“So, I assume everything's fine, then,” Wilson grins.

 

“Better than fine. You kissed me back, so I haven't gone insane and hallucinated sex with a co-worker again.”

 

“Always a plus,” Wilson remarks.

 

“Also. My leg hurts barely at all,” House says, disbelievingly.

 

“House, that's awesome,” Wilson smiles. This time House doesn't tell him to shut up.

 

 _It's really real. And_ this _is really real_ , he thinks, grabbing Wilson into a new kiss.

 

“We could stay home today. Nobody knows we're back yet.” House rises his eyebrow at Wilson suggestively.

 

“We've missed over a week already.”

 

“So what's one more day?”

 

“Hurry up, I'll drive us both.”

 

House gets changed and grabs his cane on the way out. He's still going to need it, on the account of the gaping hole in his leg, but walking feels slightly more balanced and, more importantly, nearly painless. Or maybe the pain would feel much for somebody else, but considering the hell he's been through with his leg, the mild throbbing feels like a gentle massage.

 

Wilson is waiting for him at the door, dressed in winter clothes. _Too bad about the weather again_ , House thinks, getting his jacket. He throws a orange bottle at Wilson.

 

“Your Vicodin?” the man looks at him stunned.

 

“Not going to need it anymore. Also not suffering from withdrawal, apparently it passed while the Others had us unconscious.”

 

“I don't think the transport would've taken that long.”

 

“No other possibility. No nausea, nothing.”

 

“Maybe it was the Island,” Wilson suggests. At House's eyeroll he continues, “You're not gonna let it go, are you? To just believe that the Island cured you?”

 

“How long have you known me?”

 

“Instead of solving the mystery, you could just enjoy it, you know.”

 

“Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive?” House winks. He is rewarded by a slight colouring on Wilson's cheeks.

 

They start walking towards the car. House feels happy to be going back to work. He grins at Wilson.

 

“So, you think the kids have missed me?”

 

 

END


End file.
